


King's Cross Redux

by penumbria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Bashing, Child Abuse, Discussion of Rape (Love Potions), Fix-It, Hate Speech, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Master of Death Harry Potter, Quantum Bang, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, Time Travelling Harry Potter, violent bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 21:17:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 50,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria
Summary: Harry died - again - and woke up in King’s Cross - again. This time, he was alone when a train came for him. But his next great adventure wasn’t onward, it was backward, and Harry found a new destiny and a world to save - one child at a time.





	1. The Story

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2019 Quantum Bang Challenge. 
> 
> Thanks to Keira Marcos and Jilly James for coming up with this and running it. Thanks to Ztivokreb for the beta and to helva2260 for the cover art. 
> 
> I do not own Harry Potter and make no money from this.
> 
> Warnings: Abuse - Child, Character Bashing, Dark Themes, Death - Major Character, Death - Minor Character, Discussion - Child Abuse, Explicit Sex, Hate Speech, Love Potions, Murder, Violence - Canon Level, Violent Bullying
> 
> Most of the warnings are for canon-type actions on the part of Voldemort and the Death Eaters (Dark Themes, Death - Major Character [mostly], Death - Minor Character, Hate Speech, Murder). The main relationship is Harry & Severus. The sexual relationship between Harry/Orion isn't a romance, it is friends, so don't expect true love.

 

**Chapter 1**

 

Harry opened his eyes to an unhappily familiar sight - a King’s Cross train station entirely in white. He groaned and sat up, muttering, “Why am I always naked here?” A set of robes suddenly appeared on the floor, prompting Harry to stand and dress while looking around.He saw the nearest white benches, but there was no crying baby thing under them this time. Peering into the distance through eyes that didn’t need glasses brought no manipulative former headmaster into view.

The vast station was entirely silent, even Harry’s footsteps not echoing through the space. Harry hummed aloud, tunelessly, just to hear something, though he knew he didn’t really have ears any longer. He paced along between the rail lines, crossing the platform seven times. Still, no cryptic messenger appeared. 

Harry sat on the nearest bench and slumped over, his head in his hands, tapping his feet. He was so confused. 

It had been around eight years since he had visited this limbo space during the Battle of Hogwarts when he allowed Voldemort to hit him with the Killing Curse. That time he had understood why he was in the afterlife or between the _after_ life and _life_ life. Whatever the fuck it was precisely, limbo, purgatory, a near-death experience. He had been hit by the Killing Curse and should be dead. He expected to be dead and either cease to exist utterly - in his nihilistic moments - or wake up in a heaven type place with his family. Limbo, or whatever, hadn’t been too much of a shock. Waking up again in the Forbidden Forest had been another story.

But now, he’d been eating dinner in his exceptionally well-warded flat, alone, glass of wine in his hand. It had been a perfectly normal night, no deadly battle, no life and death struggle. Just some downtime at home between lecture tours.

“So, how the fuck am I fucking dead?” Harry yelled into the vast white space around him.

As a projection appeared in the air in front of him, he inwardly cursed. _That was stupid. I knew this place gave you what you asked for. Bright side, at least it won’t kill me._

Floating in the air, as if on a movie screen, was a perfectly clear picture of Molly and Ginny Weasley in the kitchen of the Burrow. Ginny looked young, but not a pre-teen. They were standing over a cauldron on the stove, adding ingredients. On the table next to them was a recipe, handwritten. Harry read it over. It was a powerful attraction potion.

_Ginny seems to be around 15, so I’d be 16. That would make it sixth year, or just before_ my _sixth year,_ her _fifth - which explains the chest monster of jealousy whenever I saw her with Dean. And probably the insane obsession with Draco that I channeled into him being a threat that needed to be stopped. Which he_ was _but still, I was out of control with the stalking. How did I not see it?_

The scene changed slightly, still the Burrow with Molly and Ginny but they looked rougher, more stressed, and Ginny was older, around 16. There were two cauldrons on the stove and two recipes on the table, the attraction potion and a love potion. Not Amortentia. This was milder, but still long lasting. The scene skipped ahead and Ron entered the kitchen, Deluminator in hand. Molly handed him the vials of bottled potions. 

“Don’t storm off again, Ron. We can’t afford to leave them alone together.”

Ron nodded and took the potions, placing them in his pack. He clicked the Deluminator and waited before walking out of the Burrow.

_Asshole! I never should have forgiven him during fourth year. I wonder if_ that _was potion induced, too?_

The scene changed again, though the characters remained the same, Molly and Ginny,  approximately 22 or 23. Now there were four cauldrons on the stove, the recipes being a strong attraction potion bordering on an aphrodisiac, a potent love potion though still not Amortentia but close enough, a lust potion, and a fertility potion. Looking around the kitchen, Harry noticed the decorations and placed the timeline more precisely. It was last Christmas Eve.

_Well, the lust potion explains the wild night at the club the day after Christmas dinner. It had to be a slow acting one. They wouldn’t have wanted me to jump her at the dining table,_ way _too suspicious. Explains how upset she was when I had plans that night and didn’t invite her along._

The scene changed once more, still Ginny and Molly, this time not brewing but instead pouring six different vials into a bottle of elderberry wine, the very wine Harry was drinking when he dropped dead. The recipes were still on the table, all of the previous potions plus Amortentia and a confuddlement draught.

_That explains why the odd smell of the wine - and it’s distinctly foresty taste - didn’t make me curious or alarmed. I’d been drinking two glasses of that wine a night for over a week. They poisoned me slowly with an overdose of fucking emotion altering potions!_

The scene faded from the mist in front of him. Harry realized that his desire for privacy in his love life had in part led to his death. He had realized his sexual preferences lay with his own gender a few months after the war ended. But he never told anyone in the wizarding world. At least, not in Europe. So Molly and Ginny hadn’t realized that his powerful magic was not just negating the love and attraction portion of the potions but so was his biology. He was gay, and it would take a very different type of potion to overcome that and make him sexually attracted to Ginny, a female.

His lack of response had made them desperate, Harry supposed. And instead of looking for a different answer, they started mixing potions with increasing frequency until they killed him. He wondered if anyone would ever know the truth, then shrugged it off. It didn’t make any difference to him now.

His one consolation was that his will was up to date, and the Weasleys didn’t get all that much since he didn’t want them to take offense as Molly had always done when he gave them money or expensive gifts. Although Harry supposed she was only _pretending_ offense. Stupid woman.

Harry got up and walked along the platform following the tracks. He hoped to find an exit of some sort to take him on. As he ambled along, Harry thought over his past and his naïveté. He had been so starved for affection, for positive human interaction, when he began Hogwarts. Dumbledore had planned well, knowing he would have ‘ten difficult years’ with Vernon and Petunia. But he knew those difficult years would set him up to have no self-esteem and value others much more than himself. He was groomed to be a martyr from the moment his parents died.

He had always found his meeting with the Weasleys in the train station to be odd. Relatively few magicals came to King’s Cross via the muggle side unless they were muggleborns or muggle-raised half-bloods who lived in or near London. Everyone else apparated or took the floo. But the Weasleys went the muggle way the entire time he knew them. However, according to Bill, they never did that while he or Charlie went to Hogwarts. One of their parents always apparated them while the other stayed with the younger kids at home. As far as he knew, things changed with Ron’s first year. Harry’s own first year. Not only did they come through the muggle section, but Ginny came with them, and Arthur went to work.

And Molly almost yelling about muggles and Ginny hollering about Platform 9 and ¾. Harry felt so stupid when he first thought about the inconsistencies in the story. And Ron - the rest of the train is full? The Express _can’t_ be full, Harry knew that now. It expanded upon command, and they always aimed to have at least two dozen extra seats and a dozen additional compartments beyond the number of children expected to ride the train. 

Harry had actually realized during that first train ride that Ron had lied. But he had been so happy to have a friend, and he’d just decided that Ron was being lazy and not wanting to drag his trunk further. And Ron’s later attitude towards schoolwork and life, in general, had seemed to validate the idea. Harry had realized by mid-September of first year that Ron Weasley was a lazy arse.

The Weasleys had seemed so wonderful, barring Percy. The perfect wizarding family, pureblood but not prejudiced. Large and loving. Light.

But that first train ride had actually shown they weren’t that different from the Malfoys or the Blacks. At least some of them. Ron had mentioned that all their family were wizards. Except for a cousin he thought was an accountant. But they didn’t talk about or to him. A squib that was abandoned by the family to live in the muggle world, go to muggle school, take on a muggle job. Never to be mentioned or met with again. And that cousin was from Molly’s family.

The Light wasn’t all that is good and pure. The Dark wasn’t only evil and tainted. Granted, after the war ended, the muggleborns and blood traitors who were still alive were released from Azkaban. _Some_ of the more draconian measures passed during Voldemort’s control of the Ministry were repealed. But the Muggleborn Registration Committee was simply rebranded and their aims repurposed. 

Just like werewolves, all muggleborns were required to register their parentage with the Ministry upon entrance into the wizarding world. Their magical signatures were collected and stored and tracked, like the Trace, even into adulthood. Their families were tagged with trackers, from the oldest to the babe in arms, whether muggle or magical. 

Upon graduation from Hogwarts, which remained mandatory, a muggleborn had two years before they needed to live full time in the wizarding world. And three years to be married to either another muggleborn or a half-blood. Muggleborns were forbidden from having a regular wizarding marriage with a pureblood. Instead, they were more considered a consort in such a relationship, and their spouse was free to marry a fellow pureblood after two years if there were children and after five years if there were no children. This was so that the new pureblood spouse could bond as a true parent to a young child, too young to recall who their _actual_ parent was.

These laws didn’t affect Harry since he was a half-blood, but Hermione just about lost her mind. She had gone to Australia to find her parents - who refused to return or have anything to do with her after she restored their memories - and the laws passed while she was gone. She and Ron had been dating fairly hot and heavy before she left, but after four months on her own in Australia, she came back to the new laws and broke up with him. Ron tried to woo her back, but she refused.

In hindsight, Harry suspected that some of those potions in the Burrow kitchen given to Ron were for her. But they had left her system during her time away, and her reason returned, and she wouldn’t even go to dinner with Ron. Harry didn't think she realized she had been potioned. It was likely she had thought she had dated him due to heightened feelings brought on by the war and the deaths all around them. 

Hermione had come to him a year after the Battle of Hogwarts and said she was leaving England. She was going to move to Australia to try to mend fences with her parents and to avoid the horrific marriage and location laws for muggleborns. Her parents were already elsewhere, and she had no extended living family in the UK to be affected by the tagging laws and punished for her failure to follow the muggleborn laws. 

Harry had visited Australia two years before, and Hermione was happy enough. Her parents still refused to see her, but she was stubborn and kept trying. She was in muggle University and dating a half-blood from New Zealand. Harry hoped she never returned to England. Things were not improving there.

Not that the muggle world was much better. Six months before, a wizard had performed some very showy magic in front of over two dozen muggles. The obliviators showed up, but six different muggles had already sent videos to others. The videos went viral within hours, and several disenchanted muggleborns and squibs came forward to validate them. It was a _huge_ mess, especially when the ones who shot the videos didn’t recall it and told the exact same story about a gas leak and fumes causing hallucinations - _word for word_ the same story. A week after the event three businesses came forward with security camera footage from similar events, two from during the war and one only two months old. 

The various muggle governments in the know had admitted publicly in a joint press conference three weeks before Harry’s death that the magical world existed and was hidden from the normal world. There were riots in the streets in many countries, and several fundamentalist sects in both the US and the Middle East had captured preschool age muggleborns and burned them at the stake. Those caught were arrested, but many protested that they were following God’s words and laws.

Harry suspected a full on war was going to happen before much longer, within the decade if not sooner. The magical world was just too intertwined with the muggle one, Statute of Secrecy or no Statute of Secrecy. Food, material goods, metals, gems, investments, not to mention the part wizarding settlements like Ottery St Catchpole and Godric’s Hollow, or the wizarding areas in the midst of muggle areas - houses like Grimmauld Place, Platform 9 and ¾, Diagon Alley, the Ministry, St Mungo’s. 

The wizarding world never _truly_ withdrew completely in Europe or most Western nations, and it was coming home to roost now. But it wasn’t Harry’s problem to worry about anymore. He was dead, not a lecturer on Defense with sold-out classes around the world for children and adults. 

Harry wished he had seen the truth of the world and people around him before it was beyond too late, but he hadn’t. He’d latched onto untrue and unfaithful people, and it cost him his life. There were people he had pushed away who had his back, he wished he had trusted them.

Harry walked through the ghostly white train station for what felt like hours, and still, no end was in sight. The scenery didn’t really change either, and Harry suspected that he was somehow walking the same stretch of platform over and over without turning. There seemed to be seven benches, each just a slight bit different from each other spaced between three pillars. None of the pillars were portals, Harry checked both sides of each one. None of the benches moved when pushed or pulled or sat upon. The train tracks were uniform but unreachable. There seemed to be an invisible wall along the platform edge that Harry couldn’t pass.

Harry found the entire process tedious. He felt like he was stuck in a Greek tragedy hell, but without the rock to push or the temptation of unreachable water or fruit. He tried to find the way out, but once he had nothing to do but walk and hope he stumbled upon the exit, he could only think on his life, over and over, his regrets, his triumphs, his loneliness, his betrayals, his wishes. The longer he walked, the more his thoughts focused on his isolation and wishing he could find a way out, find the true afterlife, after this limbo. He wanted his loved ones, those who truly cared about him and didn’t just pretend.

Finally, Harry sighed into the cavernous room he was trapped in and spoke it aloud. This time around, even clothing had only appeared after a spoken wish. As had the explanation of his manner of death. “I wish I could find the way out. I don’t want to go back to the life I left behind this time. I want to go on. I want to be with those who took care of me.”

Within moments, Harry heard the first sound in this place that he hadn’t created of his own accord. A train rattled the tracks to his left and came to a stop next to him. In looks, the train resembled the Hogwarts Express, however, the coloring was different. Harry tilted his head as he gazed at the engine and the cars it was pulling. It wasn’t white. It was mostly colored black but with a good bit of deep purple throughout. And along some of the edges were lines of a brighter, though deep, green. 

Harry tried to remember back to his days in Trelawney’s class, the symbolism of colors. Well, he knew black was the color of death, in both the muggle and wizarding world, at least in the UK. And staying here wasn’t getting him anything. He had made a wish to leave and see his loved ones. And the last time he was here and asked about a train, Dumbledore had said it would take him on. 

_To my next great adventure_ , Harry supposed. _There really isn’t anything to lose in this. Can’t be worse than stuck here with absolutely nothing to do but sit or walk and brood. I hate not having something to do, too much like being in my cupboard at the Dursleys’ house. Safety but boredom. Gryffindors forward!_

Harry shrugged his shoulders and walked to the first door on the car closest to the engine, which had no door itself. He entered, and as soon as he was across the threshold, the door closed behind him. He looked around and frowned. 

The interior somewhat broke the theme that had been going on since he died. The walls and ceiling were reminiscent of a train car, but there were no compartments, no rows of seats or benches or tables. There was a single chair in the center of the room. It was large enough for Harry to sit without his feet touching the floor, with plush cushions and arms. The fabric covering the chair was the same deep purple as parts of the train exterior with the green outlining the edges of the cushion and the back. 

There were two decorative buttons on each arm front, deep black but with a green symbol embroidered on them. A familiar symbol that he hadn’t thought about in years - a triangle within a circle bisected by a straight line. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows. Which Harry supposed made sense seeing as the originals of that symbol were laying on the seat of the chair. 

The Elder Wand was propped against the back with its handle on the seat, the Resurrection Stone - sans ring - was in the middle of the cushion, and Death’s Invisibility Cloak - which Harry had left hanging in his closet of his flat - was draped across the left arm of the chair. Leaning against the right arm was a mokeskin pouch, an odd addition to the trio.

Harry walked forward and stood staring down at the artifacts. He had never wanted the stone or the wand in the first place, not really. Dumbledore had tricked him into taking the stone, and the wand was a fluke of circumstances and prophecy. Besides, the only reason he wanted the cloak was the family history attached to it.

And yet,they were all here now. Before him once again. The train, or whatever it really was, hadn’t started moving although the door had closed. Harry glanced behind him. Correction. Closed then disappeared entirely. There was no going back and no real choice before him, just time.

Harry had never been one to not jump in, a true Gryffindor. He pulled the sword from the hat and everything, once upon a time. He reached forward and picked up the pouch first, placing the string around his neck, so it hung down his chest like a necklace. He lay the cloak over his arm, slid the wand up his sleeve and scooped up the stone. 

As Harry stood back up, he blinked his eyes, wondering if he needed to wish for his glasses after all. The train car interior was wavering before his eyes and fading away. As it faded, he realized that though it had been in color, it had been just as glowy as the station. The area around him now was solid, lacking that ephemeral quality from before. 

Harry looked down at himself and saw he was wearing the robes he had asked for after his death. He wasn’t floating or partially transparent. He wasn’t a ghost. He reached his hand out and touched the nearest surface. He couldn’t push through it, it was solid, real. 

Harry breathed in and smelled his surroundings. He placed a hand at his throat and felt his pulse. He was alive. Again. Damn it!

 

**Chapter 2**

 

Harry glanced around. He was standing under a large weeping willow tree, hidden entirely by its branches. He could hear a river or stream nearby but couldn’t see it from within his sanctuary. It was near noon, as the light was slightly dim but not at all dark beneath the tree.

Harry sat at the base of the trunk and leaned back, thinking and pondering his circumstances. He was alive but this time he didn’t wake up in the same circumstances as his death. The first time he returned, he was in the Forbidden Forest within the circle of Death Eaters surrounding Voldemort. He had been in the same condition, clothes, belongings, wounds, as when he allowed himself to take the Killing Curse, other than being flat on the ground rather than standing. 

This time, he was wearing the clothes which he had requested in the white limbo area, not the clothes he had died in. He arrived standing upright with the Hallows and the bag, not his holly wand in its holster and his pocket watch.  He also wasn’t in his flat at his dining table. He was outside under a tree.

Of course, his first time in the limbo zone had not lasted long, maybe ten to twenty minutes, time flowed oddly there. This time it had felt like at least four hours, maybe closer to six. He had also boarded the train rather than just kind of fading into waking up. And he had been alone there, not with Dumbledore’s ghost or soul or echo or whatever he was.

Harry blew out a breath. Frankly, he realized there was no way to know why things were different for sure. He didn’t even know where he was. He wasn’t near his flat because there was no forested park of any kind within five miles of his home and the closest flowing water was the Thames and that would be louder than the sound heard. And there would be more city noises.

He needed more information but he decided to explore the belongings from limbo first. He knew the cloak, stone, and wand well enough, so he turned to the bag. Hopefully, it was tuned to him or it was just a waste.

Harry undid the knots and opened the mouth of the bag. Having no idea of its contents, he reached inside, and a portfolio met his fingers. He pulled it out to examine. It was made of dark brown leather and tied shut with green silk ribbon. On the cover was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.

Harry opened the portfolio and found a pile of documents. On top was a magical certificate of existence, certified by the Ministry of Magic and Gringotts Bank. It proclaimed that Hadrian Mortian Peverell was born July 31, 1941, in Sydney, Australia to Lord Cadtus Antioch Peverell and Lady Morticia Peverell née Maat. He was homeschooled and attained 10 International OWLs and 7 International NEWTs in 1959, and then attained a Defense Mastery under Marcus Tanglewood-Selwyn in 1965. He ascended to the lordship of House Peverell upon the death of his father in 1961.

Harry frowned. Peverell? He had thought they had all died out long before the 1960s. He hadn’t done in depth research, but Antioch had died within a day or two of receiving the wand. Cadmus had killed himself, but his line had continued down to the Gaunts, and then Tom Marvolo Riddle. Ignotus’ line had fallen to a single girl within two generations and she married into the Potter family, ending with Harry himself. He had never heard anyone mention Cadtus or Hadrian Peverell. And certainly, there was no Lord Peverell in the Wizengamot when he had died, and Peverell would most certainly be a British title. Australia didn’t have a titled class. It was mostly a European thing, based on those descended from the Round Table in the UK, or from various other wizarding royal houses elsewhere which had been allied with Pendragon when Camelot thrived.

Harry reached out to move the parchment to see the one beneath. When his fingers touched it, the parchment flared gold and chimed. Harry jerked his hand back and the glow faded. His eyes narrowed and he reached forward again. The parchment once more glowed gold though this time silently. He let go and took hold several more times, each time getting the same response as the second time.

“Well, that was informative, Merlin  _ damn  _ it.” Harry knew this type of paperwork. It was kind of the magical equivalent of a passport/birth certificate. It glowed gold when the magical signatures matched exactly. These were  _ his _ papers.  _ Certified _ papers. That gave him a bad feeling about how his circumstances had changed. He hoped he was wrong but with his luck - poisoned to death by love and lust potions because he hadn’t told people he was gay - Harry suspected his hunch was correct.

He turned the paper and looked at the rest of the stack. It included deeds to four houses - one in Australia, one in the US, a manor in northern UK, and a townhouse in London - a defense mastery certificate for Hadrian Peverell, a Gringotts account statement, and a self-updating security enchanted list of the contents of Death’s Pouch.

The contents list was interesting and comprehensive, listing things from a multi-compartment trunk to clothing to books to a wizard’s tent to over 30 other various magical items to three vault keys to loose galleons, sickles, and knuts. Harry sighed and thunked his head back against the tree trunk. There was one immediate way to determine if his fear, his hunch, was correct.

He slid the Elder Wand from his sleeve and grasped it as he cast the tempus spell. The results were as Harry feared.  _ October 14, 1966. _

_Alright. Fine. I don’t think heaven is the 1960s - possibly_ hell _but it is more likely that I time travelled somehow thanks to that train. And the fucking Hallows. I’m Lord Hadrian Peverell. I wonder if he actually existed in my past as a person and I am replacing him or if he died or if this is some kind of alternate history. Don’t know, don’t_ want _to care. I’ll probably never know. Sitting here under this tree isn’t going to change anything. I need to figure out_ **where** _the hell I ended up now that I know_ **when** _I ended up._

Harry got to his feet and donned Death’s Cloak, disappearing from view. He put the portfolio back into his pouch and took a chance. It worked and his hand filled with an Auror grade wand holster. He strapped it to his right arm and slid the Elder Wand into it. After closing the bag and placing it into his robe pocket next to the Stone, he parted the branches of the willow and began making his way in the opposite direction of the sound of the water. The area seemed familiar to him as he looked around, but he knew he had never been here before. 

As he walked further, he came to a street lined with dingy houses on both sides, several factory stacks in the distance spewing out thick smoke, which re-emphasized the 1960s thing as the muggle environmental laws of the 1990s and beyond would never allow that. He saw a street sign and understood why the area was so naggingly familiar. He had seen it in the memories given to him by Severus Snape before he died during the Battle of Hogwarts. He was in Cokeworth, walking down the street Spinner’s End, the location of the childhood homes of Severus Snape and Lily Evans.

Harry nodded, he had wished to see his loved ones, and his mother certainly counted in that number, though a six-year-old Lily Evans was  _ not  _ what he’d had in mind. Tricky wish fulfillment wording loopholes. 

As he walked down the street from the houses that were less shabby towards the ones that definitely needed work, Harry scanned the letterboxes for the name Evans. He couldn’t find it.

_ Why isn’t it here? Am I too early?  _

Thinking back on the memories, he recalled the one where Severus Snape first met Lily Evans in the play park when she jumped from the swings and floated to the ground. They had certainly been older than six, looked closer to nine,  _ maybe  _ eight. While Harry had gotten the impression that Snape had been watching Lily for some time, he doubted it was for years. He didn’t think a young Severus Snape had that much patience. Days, sure. Weeks, maybe. Months, unlikely. Years, no, most definitely not. So, maybe the Evans family hadn’t moved to Spinner's End until later, 1968 or 1969.

_ Then why am I here? _

Harry reached the most dilapidated section of the street and stopped as he heard a child cry out. It wasn’t a baby’s cry or a scream of pleasure or humor. It was a choked off cry of pain, something Harry was familiar with from his own childhood. He turned towards the direction of the cry and through the window of a nearby house saw an adult man with his arm raised as if to hit something. The man was glaring down at the floor and slowly lowered his hand and spit on something before storming out the front door. 

A glimpse through that door before it was closed from the inside showed Harry a familiar face sprawled on the floor - a six-year-old Severus Snape, his face red on one side, his lip split, and spittle dripping down his forehead. A woman was standing behind him, a wand slipping into her pocket and a potion vial in her other hand.

Harry frowned and followed the abuser as he stormed down the street. The man who could only be Tobias Snape walked three blocks to the neighborhood local pub. Harry followed the man inside and stood in a corner, watching and listening as he steadily worked himself into a fine state of inebriation.

_ I was put here for a reason, and it obviously wasn’t because of Mum. I  _ really  _ don’t think I worded that wish correctly before the train showed up. I know what I  _ meant  _ but I wasn’t precise enough. I didn’t say family - though that  _ was  _ deliberate, I was thinking of Remus and Tonks and Sirius, not just my parents. _

_ I think I said people who cared about me… Snape didn’t really care about me, he cared about my mum. He - Merlin! I said  _ took _ care of me! Didn’t I? He certainly did that, the git. Risked his bloody life multiple times for me. He was an arse and a first-rate bastard, not really a  _ good _ man, but he tried to make up for his mistakes. Kind of. Bitter wanker. _

_ But right now, he’s just a little kid who’s knocked around by his dad and only helped after the fact by his mum. He doesn’t even have  _ my _ mum to escape to yet. He’s not done  _ anything  _ to make up for yet. And I’ve never been able to not help people, whether they deserved it or not. And a six-year-old little wizard deserves it, no matter who he grows up to be. Merlin’s balls, I couldn’t even leave Tom Riddle in that kind of situation at that age. My ‘saving people thing’ that made me martyr myself for everyone in the Forbidden Forest never died. Even though I know fucking Dumbledore groomed me from the moment my parents died to make that choice. It’s still who I am at my core, a protector. Damn it. _

_ Okay, fine, I can wait until Tobias leaves the pub and spell him somehow. Threaten him. Hurt him like he hurts his son.  _

Harry shook his head roughly.  _ Stupid plan. I need to do better than that. I’m not Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Gryffindor Golden Boy, Man-Who-Conquered anymore. However it happened, I am Lord Hadrian Peverell. He never attended Hogwarts. He won’t have anyone’s expectations on how he should act based on House sorting. No one here will idolize him one minute and attack him the next.  _

_ I admitted to myself years ago that I hid my Slytherin side to better fit in with my friends - fake friends - like Ron. I was pushed to reject Slytherin from the moment Hagrid entered that Hut on the Rock. “ _ There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin."

_ That was such a crock of hippogriff shit. Several Death Eaters came from Ravenclaw, a few from Hufflepuff, and when he said it, Hagrid thought the main betrayer of my family came from Gryffindor. And he  _ did _ , he just thought the wrong one then.  _

_ I need to be more Slytherin about this. Get over my own prejudices. There’s nothing wrong with ambition. And there  _ definitely  _ isn’t anything wrong with cunning and being sly. Dumbledore certainly fit that more than anyone I knew.  _

_ Actually, thinking on it, most of the people I knew who truly showed Slytherin traits - as defined by the Sorting Hat - weren’t  _ in _ Slytherin. Dumbledore, Molly, Ron, Ginny, Percy, Fred, George -  basically, most of the Weasleys. And the kid who was sorted into Slytherin before the hat more than brushed his head was more of a brash Gryffindor than anything else. _

_ So, I need time to plan,  _ really  _ plan, not just rush in like an idiot, get clapped for using magic on a muggle and end up in Azkaban, of no help to anyone. But I can’t let Tobias just go back home, drunker and probably more belligerent and dangerous than before. Vernon was always worse after he’d had a few, whether at home or down at the local. _

Harry continued to turn ideas over in his head as Tobias finished his fourth pint of ale and was turned away by the bartender from getting a fifth. “I ain’t carrying your heavy arse home to yer wife, Toby. And it ain’t late enough for you to be sleepin’ it off in here. Go on home.”

Harry smiled under his cloak.  _ Perfect. Thanks for the idea, Mister Bartender. _

Tobias stumbled drunkenly into the street and began making his way towards his house. Harry waited until he was near an alleyway and tripped him by sliding a rubbish bin in front of him. Tobias fell down and laid there for a minute. Harry slid up behind him and forced a potion from his pouch down his throat. The muggle man didn’t even struggle, though it was fast.

After a few moments, he regained his feet and continued home. Harry watched through the window as the man fell onto the sofa face first and began snoring as the sleeping potion took effect. It would last at least sixteen hours on a muggle as drunk as he currently was. And he’d pass it off as a drunken blackout. He wouldn’t miss work as the next day was Saturday. And Harry would have time to work on a more long-term solution.

First step, figuring out where to stay, that night  _ and  _ long term. Harry returned to the park and ducked under the willow from before. He lowered the hood of the cloak and took out the portfolio. He had two properties in the UK and those were his options as he didn’t want to live abroad. One was a townhouse in the heart of London, though he suspected when it was built it wasn’t too near the city. The other was a manor on a hidden island that he evidently owned in total in the middle of Morecambe Bay near Bardsea. 

Harry read the instructions in the documentation and sighed. He reached back into the pouch and summoned the lordship ring. It was a silver-colored band, though he somehow knew the metal wasn’t actually silver. The stone was nearly black from a distance and still, but it shimmered in the colors of a dark rainbow when he shifted it so the dim light under the tree hit it. Harry had no idea what type of stone it was, but it was beautiful. He slid the ring onto his right ring finger and the Resurrection Stone appeared floating above it.

“Oh, come on!”

The Stone hovered for a moment before sinking until it came into contact with the stone on the ring. It seemed to sink into the stone as it disappeared, although the original stone didn’t change, visually. When the Resurrection Stone was gone from sight the band of the ring glowed black and warmed on Harry’s finger. After about thirty seconds of that, Harry’s hand began to glow, moving up his arm and disappearing under his robe. 

Harry blew out an exasperated breath and grit his teeth. “Fine. You didn’t want to chance me losing you. I get it. Could have just asked a bloke, ya know.”

Harry focused on the ring, placed his thumb against the band, and spoke, “Londinium.” The familiar hook and whirling of a portkey grabbed him and he settled into his body, relaxing against the pull. Seconds later his feet hit a marble floor and he stood upright in the foyer of his London townhouse.

The foyer was large, with a white marble floor and a sweeping staircase leading upwards and branching hallways leading away from the front door. It wasn’t at all reminiscent of the only other wizarding dwelling located in London that he had known in the past - his past, the future now - the Black family home on Grimmauld Place. This home was bright and open and airy and had lots of windows, just in the foyer. They weren’t letting in much light at present, but the sun  _ had  _ set a few minutes before and the House  _ was  _ in the middle of a park hidden behind heavy muggle repelling wards.

As he glanced around, Harry heard a familiar popping sound and found a clean, smiling house elf standing before him. The elf was male and dressed in a toga, obviously created from towel fabric but not just a repurposed towel. “I is Mizzy, head house elf for Londinium Mause. House being empty for two hundreds of yearses.”

Harry sighed. “I’m Lord Hadrian Peverell, newly returned from abroad. Touch my magic and be welcomed anew into the House Peverell, Mizzy of Londinium Mause.”

The elf squeaked and held out his hand, hovering it over Harry’s ring. Harry felt his magic reach out and embrace the elf and through him the three other elves in residence. There were two females and one other male, one of the females of an age with Mizzy, the others younger but not children.

“I will be living in the UK for a while, so I am examining my properties. I will tour this house briefly this evening and would appreciate a light meal when I am done, if you have the supplies. Two sandwiches of some sort with a small salad and tea.”

The elf nodded happily. “Mizzy can do. House has five floors, below is basement with wine storing place and potion making room. This is grounded floor with flooing room, kitchen, big eating dine room, ball dancing room, little parlor room, and large parlor room. First floor be having library room, family gathering room, office room wood, office room marbles, open room blue, open room brown. Floor two has nursery rooms one and two, schoolroom, playing room, red bedroom, Brown bedroom, purple bedroom, and four bathing rooms. Toppest floor has master suite bedroom, heir suite bedroom, star looking room, rune making room, spare heir suite bedroom, and three open rooms not named.”

Harry smiled. “Can you read and write, Mizzy?”

Mizzy nodded.

“Good. Please write down the layout of each floor and a map of the house if you can. Include any outbuildings and the grounds with ward lines, alright?”

“Mizzy will do.”

“Thank you, Mizzy. You can give that to me at dinner. For now, I’m just going to wander. You can go back to your duties now.”

Mizzy nodded and popped out. Harry took a deep breath and decided to start from the top and see the master suite. He could use the exercise anyway.

 

**Chapter 3**

 

Harry had a nice light dinner prepared by the elf in charge of the kitchen, Pola. Mizzy’s map and written descriptions were surprisingly easy to follow, the handwriting a neat copperplate. Questioning revealed that the elves had been taught by portraits in the schoolroom, having been ordered to be the best elves they could be before the last Lord Peverell left London. It still baffled Harry, how powerful and smart house elves were when well-treated and cared for. Mizzy was nearly two hundred fifteen years old, as was Pola, Mizzy’s mate. Their children, Kin and Care, were each over a hundred and cared for the grounds and the outbuildings respectively. Dobby had been twenty-four when he died and Kreacher had only been forty when Harry met him, yet both were mad and had relatively weak power.

Harry decided to take one more trip and go to the island manor house before he went to bed. He needed as much information as he could get before he tackled the Severus Snape issue the next day.

He bid his London elves goodbye and used his ring to portkey to Morecambe Bay. He found a sprawling manor house with five wings set in a star shape. The grounds were extensive from the map located in the library and included a Quidditch Pitch, four greenhouses, empty stables and kennels, a barnyard with cows, pigs, goats, and chickens, several fields with crops, a small orchard, a beach, a decorative garden and several other things. The island was basically self-sustaining if the owner required it. And the wards went out into the bay for over 350 meters in every direction. The air smelled clean and fresh and the island was beautiful. It currently housed a house elf population of fourteen led by the head island elf, Darro.

Harry went to bed in the master suite - which was an entire floor of one wing of the house - and dreamt of events occurring in Australia, New York, Florida, Rome, Paris, Toronto, New Orleans, Moscow, and Tokyo. He saw everything from the perspective of Hadrian Peverell and he somehow knew that those he met in his dreams were now remembering it all, as well. 

A voice, yet not really a voice, in his mind told him that his fears of displacing a true person who existed before he took the train from limbo were false. The facts he had known about the Peverell family in his past life were true now until the moment he arrived. But now, everything would show that Antioch had a son before he got himself killed. And that son’s line ended in Hadrian Peverell. Documents, historical  _ and  _ modern, would show it. History books and genealogy books would list the family. The Sacred Twenty-Eight was now the Sacred Twenty-Nine and to everyone in this time, it always had been. 

This was the same reality that Harry Potter had died in. But now the soul who bested the Deathly Hallows properly was a new person, the Master of Death was Hadrian Mortian Peverell, not Harry James Potter. Hadrian had accepted his title. It was now his, for all time.

Harry spoke to the voice-not-voice, “I am Hadrian Mortian Peverell, but I will never forget I was born Harry James Potter. I will never disregard the love of my family for me, that birthed the soul I am into the world that let me become more than I was. The name they gave me resonated within my very soul, for all time.”

Moments after this bizarre not-dream, Harry awoke. He recalled with perfect clarity the entirety of his night’s visions and revelations. As he readied himself for a day of interactions with the Snape family, one way or another, he discovered more of what his final acceptance of his soul’s circumstances wrought in reality.

As Harry reached for the cloak on the chair where he laid it the night before, his hand met only chair fabric. Yet, when he glanced at his hand to see if he had misjudged his reach, it was invisible. The cloak was nowhere to be found in his bedroom and the elves had not taken it either. Experimentation and thought brought control to the power. When he wished to be unseen, he was so. He could trigger it with a thought or a motion, as if raising the hood of the cloak. If he wished for someone or something else to be unseen, a gesture as if throwing the cloak over them made them so.

The Elder Wand remained in its sheath, but Harry could tell it, too, had changed him. Every spell he attempted wandless worked perfectly, where before he could use only a small handful, like Lumos, Alohomora, Tempus, and a short distance Accio. Removing the wand from its sheath showed it had changed. Physically changed. It had smoothed out and buffed to a shine, the nodules were no longer present, and the color was now a gleaming black with a green and purple handle. He realized that Dumbledore would have the wand in the here and now and Harry couldn’t possess an identical one, nor could he simply not use one, whether it was superfluous or not.

Harry made his way to the apparition point after informing the elves that he should be back for dinner, possibly with a couple of guests. His current plan involved convincing Eileen to leave her husband and Harry would help her get on her feet, so Severus would be raised in a non-abusive home.

Harry apparated to Cokeworth, once more under the willow, though he “donned the cloak” before he left. He quickly made his way to the Snape house on Spinner's End knowing his slumber spell would have worn off of Tobias around half an hour ago. He arrived to see the three Snapes leave the house and begin walking toward the town center where there appeared to be a market day in progress.

Harry followed close behind as the family made their way around, purchasing food and goods from some of the cheaper vendors. Severus glanced several times at various displays of sweets and toys, but they never stopped to indulge the boy. 

It was one such glance that led to the beginning of the end for the abusive Tobias. Severus had glanced for several seconds at a vendor with chocolates and didn’t see in time that Tobias had stopped moving at the next booth. He ran into the back of the irascible man and Tobias, already slightly drunk, though he had been awake less than an hour, stumbled and nearly fell over. The man spun to face his son when he regained his balance and without a thought to his location, smacked the child across the face hard enough to send him flying onto his back in the middle of the path. 

Harry smiled grimly, expecting one of the surrounding muggles to step forward as Severus was bleeding from where his head struck the pavement, as well as his lip once again catching his teeth and seeping blood. When no one did, when not a single soul even  _ glanced  _ at the fallen boy or enraged man, Harry sent a wandless spell at the two males. He grimaced at what he found. Both of them had muggle notice-me-not spells on them, especially geared towards violence. Muggles like the shopkeepers or bartender could see Tobias without a problem but when he got aggressive, they forgot as soon as he was out of sight. If that violence was towards Severus, they wouldn’t notice it or its effects on the boy.

Harry realized Eileen was complicit in the abuse. He had always believed that she had either been abused as well, or was a weak witch much like Merope Gaunt who could barely use a wand. He assumed she stayed with the abusive muggle because she had no family who would take her in, no skills in the muggle world as she grew up pureblood, not enough power to have a job in the wizarding world that could support her and Severus. A stupid assumption, he realized now. 

Eileen Prince had attended Hogwarts  _ and  _ graduated. She had been very good and won acclaim at school for her potions brewing. She had married a muggle against her parents’ wishes and been disowned but that said nothing about any reasons behind it beyond supposed pureblood prejudice. Eileen Snape was assisting her husband in escaping the results of his abuse upon his son. This changed Harry’s plans but not too much. It just made the number he would rescue decrease to one, rather than two. And he would bring bad acts home to roost on two adults, not just one drunken muggle.

Harry followed the Snape family as they left the market, Eileen carrying the two bags of things they had purchased and Tobias pulling Severus along by the back of his collar as he ranted and berated his child in a low voice. The young boy was barely able to keep his feet under him and prevent himself from being literally dragged by his father.

As they walked, Harry invisibly cancelled Eileen’s muggle notice-me-not variations and the trio drew looks from a few people they passed. Eileen didn’t notice as she hurried along in front of the men in her family. Harry smiled grimly. The muggles would be calling for child protection soon and he could just wait and see the outcome. No Gryffindor rushing in.

Unfortunate for him, at that moment the Snapes crossed their property line and Harry saw the muggles lose interest once more. 

_ She didn’t just spell them, she fucking warded and spelled their house so no one noticed Tobias’ abusive behavior towards Severus. She may not be hitting him, but she is aiding and abetting it.  _

Harry hurriedly began casting at the house, working on breaking the muggle repelling ward. It took too long for his taste but after just under ten minutes, he managed it. The instant he did, he saw one of the neighbors’ hurry inside their house as they had been about to do when the Snapes had passed by earlier. 

But Harry couldn’t wait for the police now. It had been too long. He opened the front door and cast a spell freezing those inside in place. Severus was in just his pants, stretched over an ottoman, his bare back bleeding. Tobias stood over him, frozen in a position of torturer, his arm back ready to bring the belt, buckle end foremost, onto his child’s scarred back. Eileen was frozen into place off to the side, watching with a small smile on her face.

Harry frowned and cast a truth spell on all three and a tongue-tying curse to prevent them from speaking of magic to the muggles. Harry hated child abusers more than most anything, thanks in large part to Vernon and Petunia Dursley. He wanted to curse the elder Snapes with more than just a jinx to make them tell the truth, but he didn’t want to slide down that slippery slope if he could help it.

Within ten minutes, Harry heard the police arrive out front and released his freezing spell as they came up the walk and looked through the window. The sight had them busting open the door and taking a ranting Tobias into custody. 

“He’s my son! I can discipline him if I want. I hate him! Thinks he’s so much better than me, little asshole!”

The second officer asked Eileen why she hadn’t reported her husband to the child protection services. Her reply sealed her fate to the policemen. 

“Little arse deserves it. Tobias and me, we were happy before he came along. Now, Tobias won’t even touch me, ‘cause of him. Be better off without him.”

Harry understood the subtext, knowing some of the history. Eileen hadn’t told Tobias about magic, turned her back on it to marry him. Then Severus was born a wizard, not a squib or a muggle and it all came out when he did his first accidental magic. Tobias likely hated his son for having magic when he couldn’t, much like the situation between Petunia and Lily. And he refused to sleep with Eileen so she couldn’t birth another child who could be a witch or wizard.

Harry listened as his mild truth and calming spell on Severus made sure he didn’t try to hide his abuse from the muggle authorities. A child advocate showed up and took Severus up to his room to gather things and get cleaned up and dressed. When Severus went into the bathroom, the advocate remained in the small bedroom and Harry took the chance.

As the door closed behind the young boy, he silenced him and removed his invisibility, revealing himself to Severus. He put his finger to his mouth in a gesture for silence. Severus tried to speak and realized Harry had magicked him. He glared, a bare echo of his future glower. Harry again put one finger across his lips, eyebrows raised. Severus sighed soundlessly and nodded. 

Harry removed the spell and helped the boy to the sink. He leaned next to him and whispered very quietly as the water began to run, “My name is Hadrian. Everything will be alright.”

Severus looked up at him. “You’re a wizard. Mum’s a witch. Da’s not.”

Harry nodded. “I know.”

Severus washed his hands and dabbed at his split lip. “Why are you here?”

“Magic sent me. I didn’t know why until I saw what your father and mother were doing.”

“You made the police come.”

“Sort of, yes. Your neighbors called them, but I removed the magic your mother had used to make them ignore what was happening to you.”

Severus sniffled. “She really doesn’t love me, does she? She always helped me clean up and put potions on me and stuff, but she never stopped him. She’s a witch, she coulda but she stopped people from helping instead?”

Harry hugged Severus from behind. “Yes. Your mother isn’t a good person, Severus. Maybe she was once, but she made horrible choices and she has to pay for them. She understood what she and your father were doing was very wrong and illegal. And now she’s been caught, and they will face the consequences.”

“And what happens to me? She said her parents hated her and consider me a mongrel. Da doesn’t have any family.”

Harry ran his hand down Severus’ arm, soothing the boy. “I don’t know your grandparents, the Prince Family, but well, magic sent me to you for a reason. I’ve been living abroad for a long time and I’ve just come home to the UK. I have a few houses that could use some children's laughter. I’m politically powerful in the magical world, Severus, and if you wanted, I could adopt you into my family. Or I could keep you until we find you a home and family you prefer.”

Severus turned in Harry’s arms. “Really? You - you’d want to adopt me? I can work hard. Mum taught me some cooking and I help her make potions, mostly preparing ingredients but I can do that really well.”

Harry smiled. “You don’t have to earn your keep, Severus. But if you want to be my son, we can work things out so you feel appreciated and happy.”

Severus nodded shyly.

“Alright then, I am going to spell the child authority and police to accept that I am a distant relative they contacted to take you. And we’ll get you officially adopted in both worlds. Lots of meetings and paperwork but we’ll start with the wizarding world as the magical documents will ease the way considerably in the muggle world.”

Severus giggled lightly as Harry made faces at the thought of the red tape ahead.

 

**Chapter 4**

A week later, Harry and Severus walked through the Ministry lobby headed towards the DMLE. Harry had to give them a copy of the police report on Eileen Snape née Prince and then head to the Children’s Division to begin the process of adoption. He didn’t think there would be much of a problem. 

The changes of the 1960s were towards bettering people’s lives, whether it be squibs, muggleborns, or wizarding children. If Eileen weren’t going to jail along with Tobias for child abuse based on her own testimony, it would be a harder spell to cast as it were, because blood family was still considered high priority. Witness his own placement with the Dursleys. 

But Eileen would be in jail for three years for child abuse, Tobias for ten plus fifteen more for aggravated assault on a fellow prisoner while awaiting trial which put the other man - a non-violent offender in for repeated shoplifting - in a coma for two days. 

The muggles, believing Harry to be a second cousin of Severus’, allowed him to take temporary custody so the boy wouldn’t go to foster care. Severus loved the island for the past week. They visited the London house, but it was more restrictive being in the middle of Hyde Park - which wasn’t a park or even government land when the house was built - with a tight ward line. Severus spent a lot of time out in the fresh air of the island, running and playing, being a carefree child.

Once the Snapes had been sentenced, both pleading guilty to avoid even harsher penalties, Harry knew he couldn’t put off the wizarding side any further. Severus and his parents lived in the muggle world, the muggle authorities gave Harry custody, so it wouldn’t be too big of a problem yet. But the longer he put it off, the stickier it would become. 

The wizarding world would know he wasn’t related to Severus with any degree of closeness. However, his parents were unavailable, his father had no living relatives closer than third cousins, and the Princes had actually died within the past three years. Eileen’s mother had caught dragon pox in 1963 and Eileen’s father had died of a curse of some sort in 1965. So, there wasn’t anyone to take Severus in that was a direct blood relation. And regardless of the changing times, even the progressives preferred wizarding children to be raised in the wizarding world if legally possible. They wouldn’t want to place a fairly powerful wizard child in muggle foster care if a politically powerful Lord was willing to adopt him.

They entered the Wizarding Children and Families office and Harry approached the receptionist. “Hello. I’m Hadrian Peverell and I have an appointment regarding the adoption of Severus Snape.”

The young woman looked up and smiled at the two of them. “Of course, Lord Peverell. Have a seat, please, and Mister Jervin will be with you soon.”

Harry lightly steered Severus to the wooden chairs along the wall. When Severus sat down his eyes widened, and he popped right back up and stared at the chair. Harry smiled as the young boy leaned forward and pressed his hand on the seat. “Cushioning charm,” murmured Harry. “We’re wizards, no need to not be comfortable. Remember, looks can often deceive, no matter where you are, but the wizarding world has more options available.”

Severus nodded solemnly as he sat back down. “I’ll remember. I promise.” The boy then promptly ruined the serious air he was going for as he bounced up and down on the charm that made the hard-looking wood soft and comfy, like a cloud.

A few minutes later, which Severus spent trying all of the chairs to see if any of them felt different, the Department Head, Jonder Jervin came from the back offices. Harry knew that the department wasn’t overly large as it would be in the 1970s, as more orphans were created by Voldemort’s blood war, but it was large enough and busy enough to have four caseworkers plus the receptionist. Harry’s position as Lord Peverell fairly insured the highest one would deal with him, to avoid giving offense.

Harry nudged Severus to his feet as the man approached and began greeting them. “Lord Peverell, Mister Snape, I’m Jonder Jervin. I’ll be handling you through the process.”

Hadrian held out his hand for the other man to shake, as the higher placed it was his choice. “Pleasure to meet you, Mister Jervin.”

“Likewise, Lord Peverell.”

“Hadrian, please. No need to be overly formal when informality will work easier.”

“Very well. Please feel free to use Jonder, if you wish.”

Severus looked up at the towering six-foot man. “You can call me Severus. You’re going to help me be official and make Hadrian my dad, right? You won’t make him give me back?”

Hadrian knelt down in front of Severus. “You won’t ever be going back there, Severus. I promised. Your parents are in muggle jail for hurting you so much. You’ll be older than I am now when you father is released. If he doesn’t get in more trouble in jail like he already did.”

Severus bit his lip. “What about Mum?”

“She will be out in a few years but after what she did and what she let your father do, you will never have to see her again. If you want to see her after you’ve grown up, that’s your choice then. Until that moment comes or doesn’t, no one will make you see her and  _ definitely _ not live with her, not the muggles, not the wizards. Even if they don’t want me to have you for some reason, or if I do and something happens to me, you will be protected, Severus.”

Severus nodded, “Okay.”

Jonder met Hadrian’s eyes and inclined his head. In a jovial voice, he spoke while motioning the two wizards to follow him. “This won’t be difficult. We just have paperwork and some questions. If you get bored while I’m talking to Hadrian, I have some toys and books you can use while you’re here, Severus.”

They entered a spacious office with a large window with a view of boats on the Thames. Severus started at it and whispered, “I thought we were underground.”

Jonder smiled, “We are.”

Severus’ mouth opened and then closed twice before he spoke. He turned to Hadrian. “This is like the hard-wooden chairs that are actually soft, isn’t it? We’re underground but it looks like we are high up and looking outside.”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

As Jonder took a seat behind his desk, he explained. “The window is there, Severus, but it’s charmed to show a view of the outside. Unlike some species, goblins, for example, humans don’t do well stuck underground for long periods without natural light. Almost every office has a charmed window, they even vary the weather shown. There’s one in the lobby of our office but it gets a bad glare at this time of day, so Marcia keeps the curtains on it drawn for a few hours.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Alright, Severus, I’m just going to ask you some questions so your part is over with and you can play or read, okay?” Severus nodded. “Now, you’ve probably had to answer some of these before in the past few days, but I need to fill out paperwork on the wizarding end. Can you tell me what happened on Saturday?”

Severus looked at his swinging feet. “Mum and Da and I went to market. Cokeworth has one every Saturday, and usually just Mum goes, but once a month it is bigger and we all go. I wasn’t watching close enough. I’m usually pretty good at it, but I got distracted, and Da stopped and I ran into him. He smacked me and I fell down. He yelled a bit and then dragged me home.”

Jonder looked at the quill taking notes. “You fell down? Did anyone help you up? Or intervene when he was dragging you?”

Severus shook his head. “No one ever did. I just thought they all agreed with Da and I was an evil git and deserved it. And I mean, he wasn’t like pulling me along. I got up and I didn’t fall again.”

“But he had a hold of you?”

Severus nodded. “My jacket at the neck. It’s pretty sturdy so it doesn’t rip like shirts do sometimes.”

“And your mother? What was she doing?”

“She was ahead of us, carrying the stuff we bought.”

Jonder nodded and looked at the quill again. “So, she didn’t see what your father did?”

Severus shook his head. “She saw him hit me and hurried ahead when he grabbed my jacket neck. She always went first so she could get the door open for Da so she wouldn’t have to loose me and chance me making a break for it. I never did. But Mum worried I would. But I tried to be good. When we got home, I got my shirt and trousers off and bent over the stool. Da taught me how to be good when he wallops me when I was little. I hated it and it hurt but I thought I deserved it. Mum always said it was my fault, if I didn’t make him mad, he wouldn’t have to hurt me. But Hadrian told me they were wrong. School said that kind of thing was bad, too, but none of the teachers ever helped me. Hadrian did.”

Jonder sighed inaudibly. “How often did your father get mad like that?”

“Most days he at least shoved me, he’d smack me or punch my face couple times a week, unless he was in a real bad mood and really drunk. And he thrashed me at least once a week, sometimes more if I was bad...If he  _ said _ I was bad or Mum told him I’d been bad, even if I wasn’t.”

Jonder blinked. “Can you tell me about when you first met Hadrian?”

Severus beamed. “Da had hit me a couple times with the belt and then everything froze still. I thought I had done it and was really scared at first until the policemen came in. And they talked to me and a woman came and we went up to the bathroom and she didn’t come in with me but Hadrian did and he was  _ invisible  _ and told me he was going to rescue me and that I wasn’t bad and that Mum and Da were bad and that Mum had made people - muggles - not see how they hurt me but when he fixed it they helped and he was going to make sure I was safe and I could live with him or a family but he helped me and I  _ trust  _ him and I love him, I think. I want to be with Hadrian and be his son. He says I don’t have to pay for my upkeep or cook or make potions, unless I want to. I can play and be a kid, because kids should just be kids. That’s what Hadrian says to me.”

Jonder smiled. “Okay, kid.”

Severus chuckled.

“That’s all I have to ask you for now. Why don’t you go in the play area? I have several things or you can read any of the books on that shelf.”

Severus looked at Hadrian who nodded and smiled. “It’s okay. Go be a kid.”

With a grin, Severus hopped down from the chair and ran over to the area, exploring his options. Hadrian and Jonder watched as Severus finally settled onto a cloud shaped pillow with a children’s book on magical animals. Once he was settled and occupied, Jonder turned to Hadrian.

“I’m going to put up a slight silencing spell so Severus isn’t disturbed by what we discuss. It is standard procedure.” Hadrian nodded his assent as the department head activated the spell around his desk area.

“Very well, Hadrian. For the record, everything you say is being recorded. First of all, why were you in Cokeworth? There are no records of you having property there.”

Harry shook his head and began his tale of Hadrian Peverell’s actions. “No. I had never been to Cokeworth. The Peverell Family Magic is very…odd, sometimes, even to those who are born into it. When my father, the previous lord died and I came into the title and patriarchy, I began to feel an itch in my magic. I didn’t know what it was, and it had no definable purpose. At that time, I was nearing the end of my apprenticeship for my Defense Mastery. In hindsight, I suspect the magic was preparing me for future events, as I was in no place to do anything at that point. I couldn’t leave the apprenticeship until it was complete. But the very night I was awarded my Mastery and released from the apprentice bonds, I dreamed. All night long I would fall asleep, sleep soundly and undisturbed for an hour, then dream of a globe or an atlas or a world map. The dream would start with a wide view or a spinning globe and gradually center on the United Kingdom. Once it was centered and I recognized and acknowledged the view in my dream, I would wake up. The first time, I went right back to sleep. Then I got up and had some water. Or walked around for a few minutes. Or looked out the window. But as soon as I slept once more, the cycle repeated. In the morning, after the sun had broken the horizon, I began to feel what I can only call a tug in my magic. Tugging me very lightly towards the UK. I put my affairs in order and packed up my home. 

“You may not know but several hundred years ago, the Lord Peverell of the day went on a bit of a world tour. He fell in love during his trip and married, living close to his wife’s family for her sake. I have his journals. Thereafter, many of the heirs felt a wanderlust and ended up in different countries. I myself was born and raised in Australia. But I felt that the Family Magic was telling me it was time to come back home. I arrived at my family's London home a few weeks ago and then our manor house. The tugging was more insistent and harder the longer I waited.

“I cast a family spell to take me where I needed to be. It is more complex and more confusing, but it is a protected family spell. It led me to a Cokeworth, under a willow tree in a park near the river. By turning around in a circle slowly, I was able to isolate the direction of the tugging and it took me to Severus and his parents. I followed them around the market. I admit, I was under an invisibility cloak, a family heirloom. I can navigate the muggle world but frankly, I didn’t know what was going on or why my magic was sending me to Severus. I decided to watch and see. 

“And what I saw was horrible. When Tobias Snape just whirled on the boy and struck his face - Severus didn’t just fall over, he flew back several feet and struck his head on the ground! I wanted to go to him, but I couldn’t just appear out of nowhere in front of dozens of muggles. And I assumed that others would come to his defense - his mother perhaps, or a fellow shopper or stall holder. Child abuse is illegal in the civilized parts of the muggle world. 

“By the time I realized no one seemed to even see what had happened, though some did move around Severus’ prone form, Tobias was already pulling him down the street by the collar. I followed. I kept my wand hidden under the cloak and cast a detection spell - one that only shows results to the caster - and saw that Severus and his father were under a very odd notice-me-not variation. It was so odd and specific yet not, I assumed that Severus was a muggleborn and at some point, had cast accidental magic that stuck. I cast a cancelling spell on them, and the muggles began to notice the two. But then I saw Eileen enter the house and take out a wand and cast a spell. That is when I realized Severus wasn’t muggleborn, his mother at least was magical. 

“I feared what was going to happen to Severus, but I couldn’t do anything. I had no presence in the muggle world in the UK and not much of one abroad. My magic was almost burning me inside, tugging so hard at that house. I cancelled the spells Eileen cast, and the muggles again noticed and recalled what had happened. I heard one phoning the muggle police, but I worried they would be too late. I entered the house and found Tobias hitting Severus with a belt, the buckle end swinging into his back. Severus was already bleeding. Eileen was standing there watching, she was smiling! Her wand was up her sleeve, she could have stopped it, but she was watching with - it was almost gleeful. It was  _ definitely  _ smug. I stood in front of the window and cast a freezing spell.

“I unfroze them just as the muggle police arrived around ten minutes later. Severus was living in the muggle world, his father is a muggle, and I just felt things needed to be settled there. Cokeworth is a purely muggle town. It isn’t mixed. I let the muggles handle it. And I spoke to Severus when I could, and my magic urged me to offer a new family to him. If he had said no, I would have respected that and helped him find a situation he preferred. But he didn’t. And in the past week, I have grown to love that prickly little boy.

“I can give him a home and a place in a rich family magic legacy. I have plenty of money, several homes, and time to devote to him. I don’t know why my magic sent me to him, but I am glad it did. Severus deserves so much better than the hell he was in.”

Jonder blinked his watery eyes and nodded. “I have a copy of the arrest and conviction report you provided to the aurors. I have to say, his father is an abusive, evil man, but his mother is a real harridan. She hid her magic from her husband because she wanted him to love her. Then Severus was born magical. She hated her own child for exposing her secret. She actually encouraged Tobias’ violence on the boy, and while ostensibly helping Severus to heal, in reality, she was using potions that would prolong his pain and cause deep surface scarring that wouldn’t dull the nerves beneath it. Indeed, the scars she created on her son after her husband’s abuse  _ increased _ the sensitivity of the nerves, making future thrashings worse. 

“Since you contacted our office with the basics of the case and applied for custody, we’ve evaluated you. Our department agrees that you and Severus belong together. We will keep an eye on the situation for six months and if within that time nothing changes, you may fully adopt Severus. During that time, you will be father and son on paper, not magically bound, in both worlds. I truly believe you can give that boy a happy childhood. Something all children deserve but so many don’t quite get.”

 

**Chapter 5**

It had been a few months since Harry had been granted custody of Severus by the Ministry of Magic and the new year had begun. They had spent that time getting to know one another and Severus learning to be a child, permitted to be loud and messy and to ask questions. Within reason. He learned to respect the boundaries Harry set for him, not arbitrary rules changed on a bitter parent’s whim. 

Yule had been wonderful for both of them. Severus had only celebrated Christmas, and even that was limited. Harry had only begun learning about Wizarding holidays a year or so after the war, and none of his so-called friends kept to the Old Ways, so Yule had always been a solitary, somewhat solemn celebration for him, not a joyful one. 

Harry spoiled his new son, buying him toys, both wizarding and muggle, clothes, books, and a training broom. He loved to play with Severus and watch him discover the joy of a new toy, Harry discovering it as well, through a child’s eyes. 

Though Severus didn’t know how similar their childhoods had been, Harry knew. Harry might be in a new body, free from the scars of his old one, everything having been renewed in limbo, just as his eyesight had. But he still recalled the cupboard under the stairs, nights in the dark and cold, curled up with the stomach pain of starvation, bruised and bloody from Vernon’s and Dudley’s corrections and games, spiders crawling on him through the night. He recalled frying pans to the head, hands around his neck throttling him, arms held behind his back by minions while the leader of the pack punched him repeatedly in the stomach and chest. Chores until his hands bled, back and neck and arms badly sunburned, oil burns from spitting grease, Harry remembered it all.

Neither Harry nor Severus were permitted to be a child. In his original life, Severus never truly permitted himself to be free like a child should. The closest he had come was the time he spent with Lily Evans, in the play park, under the willows by the water, on the grounds of Hogwarts while others worked to separate the wrongness of a Gryffindor friends with a Slytherin. He clung so fiercely to her, his first friend, his glimpse of normalcy, of happiness in his grim world. 

This time around, Harry would make sure Severus met Lily from a position of strength. If they became friends, it wouldn’t be a desperate grab by a lonely and abused boy but a relationship of equals.

Harry experienced a childhood vicariously through his son. Severus got to learn to have fun and trust in this new life. It was wonderful for them both. Harry played with Severus, he read to and with him, he taught him to fly. It was one of the best months of either of their lives.

But now, Severus was healed physically, comfortable with Harry, even called him Dad a few times, and his soul was healing with the resilience of a child’s wonder. And Harry had hired a tutor to work with Severus. He didn’t want to send him to a muggle school, and there were no magical primary schools. Some of the mixed villages had an older woman who would teach a few of the children some basics in return for household staples or a few knuts. But most children were taught by a parent, a paid tutor, or an older sibling or another relative.

Severus had only attended the muggle school in Cokeworth for a few months and hadn’t enjoyed it. Harry had discovered from his friends who were at least partially muggle raised that muggle school had not been a good time for any of them. They were never popular, always the outcast, the weirdo, the freak. 

The single exception he had ever found was Lily Evans. By all accounts that he had heard or seen, she had been at least partly popular before Hogwarts. Harry didn’t know if she was the exception that proves the rule, or if talking to the actual Lily and not others would have revealed her lack of comfort as well. There just seemed to be something about a magical child being surrounded by muggle children that made the muggles subconsciously uncomfortable, and it often led to them being at least verbally, if not physically, vicious.

So, Harry had hired a tutor with proper credentials to teach Severus five hours a day during the week. Severus would learn things from both worlds: mathematics plus Latin, writing essays and writing with a quill, muggle history and magical history, science and magical theory, potions basics - much of which he knew already thanks to Eileen’s parenting - and muggle classic children's literature. All age appropriate. Severus would spend time with his tutor during the day, and Harry would be free to pursue other things.

Harry made a point of eating breakfast and dinner with Severus every day. And he always spent time with him after dinner and on the weekends. But Severus was beginning to regain his independence, trusting that his new father would return to him. Harry loved seeing the reserved, clingy child come out of his shell and laugh and whine and pout and play. 

The first time Severus yelled at him, Harry had inwardly rejoiced. The child would never have dared to raise his voice to Tobias Snape, unless it was in a cry of pain. For Severus to scream about the unfairness of a bedtime when he wanted to keep reading, was wonderful progress. 

But though in some ways Harry admitted he spoiled his son, he also took Petunia Dursley’s lessons on parenting to heart. Lessons on how  _ not  _ to parent. The boundaries and rules were firm, and the punishments revealed beforehand. Severus pushed those boundaries as he began to trust his new life and Harry enforced them with loving, firm discipline which was never physically or even verbally abusive. Timeouts - though never locked in a small space, grounding - though never in the dark or physically restrained, removal of privileges - though never food other than sweets, these were the punishments Severus was becoming used to. And now that his tutoring had begun, writing lines or essays based on his wrongdoing were added to the list, though it should go without saying they were never written with a blood quill.

And now that Harry wasn’t Severus’ only human caregiver, he could begin to tackle other things. Magic or Fate or Death, whatever it was that brought him directly to Severus, he felt he had accomplished, or at least started on, what they had wanted to be changed. But being in the past, and having already screwed the timeline with his actions, Harry had no intention of letting things fall out as they had before. 

Upon first arriving in the past, Harry had made lists about history that he recalled. He noted significant events of Voldemort’s first Blood War of the 1970s and Tom’s personal timeline. Harry knew that there had been several horcruxes made by this time, though he didn’t entirely trust Dumbledore’s conclusions on some of them. But he knew that Riddle hadn’t finalized his hiding spots for most of them until the mid to late 1970s when he gave the cup to Bellatrix after her marriage and the diary to Lucius and borrowed Kreacher to test the cave’s protections, or at least the potency of the potion. The diadem he had recovered during his travels and placed in Hogwarts shortly after he returned to the UK and began the early moves in his war. Nagini wasn’t created as a horcrux until after his re-embodiment in 1995. And the scar horcrux was of course created on October 31, 1981. As it was currently January 1967, and not only was the “Boy-Who-Lived” not born for over another decade, but his parents hadn’t even entered puberty yet, Harry had ignored those two.

The ring, though, was cursed with a nasty, basically unstoppable curse, yet it had nowhere near the protections of a powerful family manor - Malfoy, a Gringotts vault - Bellatrix, a magical castle with hidden rooms - the diadem in the Room of Requirement, or a cave full of traps and inferi - Kreacher and Regulus. It was highly likely the ring was the first horcrux Tom hid, possibly the first one he  _ actually  _ made. 

Harry knew that Dumbledore was convinced that the diary was first and made with Myrtle’s death at the hands - or eyes - of the basilisk, but the timing of what the diary knew and recalled didn’t quite sync up for Harry. If the soul piece fractured off with the indirect killing, even if it wasn’t in the container yet, it wouldn’t have had the memory of catching Hagrid with Aragog and framing him for the killing. Harry believed that the diary was created later, likely near the same time as the ring, after the deaths of Tom’s father and grandparents. Not that the timing of their  _ making  _ mattered much. What mattered was when he hid the ring in the Gaunt shack.

Also, it was possible that the locket had been hidden in the cave earlier than the house elf testing of the protections and he simply refined the danger. Harry planned to visit the shack and the cave to see if the ring or locket were present. And if they were, he would destroy them.

Another thing Harry wanted to change was the attitudes and prejudices that led to Tom gathering so many followers, generation after generation. And to do that he needed to use the political and social power that he wielded as Lord Peverell. Which required attendance at the Wizengamot when it resumed in a few weeks. And small talk and political posturing and alliance building. Basically, he needed to allow his Slytherin side to come to the fore.

Harry knew it wouldn’t be easy, there was a lot he didn’t know this far back. But he had at least three years until the true war began and violence began to spread throughout the country. 

**Chapter 6**

Harry sat in a familiar chair in a familiar office, though the decorations were not quite the same as he remembered. The many little whirling silver knickknacks were not present, though the stand with the brilliant firebird still held pride of place. The old man behind the desk was not quite the man he had met at eleven. His hair was white but less silvered, his beard wasn’t quite as long, and his robes were decidedly less flamboyant. They were still eccentric, but they didn’t scream, “I’m barmy and colorblind with absolutely no sense of taste.”

The old man smiled, and his eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Lord Peverell. It is such a shame that you weren’t able to come to school here.”

Hadrian inclined his head. “I’m sure it would have been fascinating, but I enjoyed my schooling, Headmaster. I was able to study more what I wished at my pace, rather than among others who would hold me back or vice versa in classes I didn’t care for.”

“And yet you were the driving force behind the creation of the Wizarding Primary School Network these past four years. And one of the most anticipated lecturers for each class, I’ve heard from a large number of the younger students who attended one of the schools you created.”

Hadrian smiled. “True. But there is a large difference between living in the United Kingdom with its large population, and growing up in Australia where the only school is a day school with minimal classes and no electives. Not everyone thrives in a self-study environment. As an educator of so many decades, you must know that, Headmaster Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Of course. Every child is different, and all are a pleasure - in their own ways.”

“And having a standardized pre-Hogwarts education has helped everyone, regardless of their family status, to begin on the same foot. And I have received letters from several of your professors thanking me for the instruction the primaries give on writing and essay structure and logic.”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “I’ve heard much praise from the professors about those who took those classes with your schools.”

Hadrian titled his head slightly to one side. “You keep referring to them as  _ my _ schools, Headmaster. I assure you, I may have been the impetus behind the bills on primary education in the Wizengamot and I certainly donated a good bit to many of them, but I don't  _ own,  _ nor  _ run, _ any of the schools. My only involvement in the past two years has been guest lecturing on Defense and as a parent with a son attending one of them. You asked me to have this meeting with you tonight. And seeing Hogwarts has been very interesting. But I confess, I am a bit confused as to the point of this meeting. Surely you don’t want me as a guest lecturer for your students?”

Dumbledore sat back and smiled enigmatically. “In a way, in a way. For the past several years, since the long-term Defense Against the Dark Arts professor retired in the spring on ‘68, I have had the same issue arise. Each of the professors I hired to teach the class has left at the end of the school year. The first was hired away for a very prestigious job with the ICW. The second planned to return but had a spell backfire over the summer break and was in a magically induced coma for seven months and didn’t want to return after they recovered. And our last professor, the current one, is leaving after three different seventh year girls and one boy have turned up in the family way by him. Now, all of the students were of age, none of them were in NEWT DADA classes, and the relations were consensual. And in the case of one of the girls and the boy, rather orgiastic. But the ‘free love’ of the multiple short-term partners is not an example for the younger students that I would like spread. Especially since the not-so-esteemed professor didn’t seem to learn from the first surprise that he should use contraceptive charms or potions. Thus, he will be leaving us when the year ends in two months. And I am again in a position to require a new professor.”

“That is odd, and I’m sure it is frustrating. But I am still unclear. Are you asking me for recommendations, Headmaster Dumbledore?”

“No, no, my boy. I am asking if you would be willing to take the job. I thought of approaching you last year but everyone I spoke to about the idea who knew you were sure you would turn it down as you would not wish to live here due to your son. Hogwarts has not hosted professors with children too young to attend as students themselves since 1692. But I happen to know that young Mister Peverell received a Hogwarts letter on his birthday and has accepted attendance,  therefore, you are available. I would give you leave for Wizengamot duties if necessary, of course. And I’m sure we could arrange your schedule to allow you time for your guest lectures at the primary schools.”

Hadrian blinked in surprise. He had  _ not _ seen this coming. Regardless of the hail fellow well met routine the old man was doing, Hadrian knew the old man couldn’t stand him. They had been opponents over the educational reform too much. So, this was odd. Unless Dumbledore suspected the curse’s existence and hoped to get rid of him in a permanent way without bloodying his own hands. If that was his plan, he would be sorely disappointed.

“It is a very interesting, and surprisingly tempting offer, Headmaster. Assuming we can come to terms on salary, benefits, and freedom of curriculum - within Ministry standards, of course, I believe you have a professor. Assuming Severus doesn’t object too much about having his father teaching.”

Dumbledore grimaced so swiftly during the talk of Hadrian’s demands that the lord would have missed it - if he hadn’t been watching and hoping for just such a sign. “I’m sure we can come to an equitable agreement, my boy.”

Hadrian smiled, showing his teeth. “I’m sure.”

***

Harry walked into the teachers’ lounge in Hogwarts just after the 1970/1971 school year ended. This was a meeting to close out the school year and prepare for the next. Harry had spent the day with the man he was replacing, being shown his lesson plans and gradebook and notes on his students. The man also gave him a tour of the main points of interest to a teacher. Then he had handed him off to Minerva McGonagall and left the building.

Normally, the departing professor would handle this meeting, showing the replacement how it was done but considering the scandalous reason the man was sacked and the fact that his tenure had only lasted a single year, as had the two professors of the subject before him, Harry was simply thrown into the shallowest part of the deep end of the pool and left to sink or swim. 

Most of the professors had yet to arrive when Harry walked in, but Minerva showed him the seat typically used by the DADA professor and he sat down. It was interesting to see the difference between 1971 and 1991. There were a surprising number of familiar if younger faces on the current staff. Not counting Hagrid or Filch, as they weren’t teachers and this was a teachers meeting, Harry recognized McGonagall and Dumbledore, of course, but also Pomona Sprout, his old future Herbology professor and the Head of Hufflepuff House, Septima Vector, professor of arithmancy, Rolanda Hooch, the flying instructor and Quidditch referee, Horace Slughorn, the smarmy suck-up potions professor and Head of Slytherin House, Cuthbert Binns, the boring ghost who taught History of Magic, and Silvanus Kettleburn, professor of Care of Magical Creatures, though he looked odd with most of his limbs intact. One other familiar face entered the room just before the start of the meeting, Filius Flitwick, the part goblin who taught Harry Charms. This would be his first year in his position and he was escorted by the retiring Professor Gregory Klaster.

Albus began the meeting as the clock struck one. “Hello everyone. I know this is a dreadful meeting and we all just want to start our summers now that the children are off on theirs, but as I always say every year, it is necessary, and we’ll try to keep it short. Before we begin, I want to welcome two new professors who will begin teaching here in September: Filius Flitwick, who will be taking over for Gregory as he retires, and Hadrian Peverell, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, replacing our previous teacher of that subject. I hope you will all make them welcome to our wonderful school.”

Hadrian and Filius both nodded at the rest of the teachers and sat back in their chairs. “Now, first let us speak of the rising second through fifth years, are there any problems anticipated or lingering?”

Pomona Sprout sat forward. “Melanie Grant, one of my rising fifth years, she may have problems over the summer.”

Minerva frowned. “Her mother’s death?”

Sprout nodded and frowned, her eyes sad. “Yes. Her mother died in a magical explosion in the basement of their home. It was ruled a bizarre accident, they think she may have mispronounced a spell or something.”

Albus leaned on the table. “I’m sure her family will help her with her grief, Pomona, my dear.”

“Yes, her father is wonderful but that isn’t the issue. The accident happened just a few weeks before end of term and happening in the basement, well, it was a very large explosion. It brought the majority of the house down. If anyone else had been home, and evidently it was close, Melanie’s father had left less than five minutes before it happened, he would have certainly died. Melanie would be an orphan.”

Albus tilted his head, “Would Mister Grant not have been able to shield himself?”

Pomona huffed. “Jack Grant is a muggle, Albus. He married Linderra Polmondo.”

“Ah, Gryffindor class of ‘53, I believe.”

“Yes, well, the house was destroyed totally and there were no others for sale in the village. And there were no other mixed muggle/magical towns near enough to his work to be feasible since he can’t exactly apparate or floo there, as a muggle with a muggle job. So, he found a place in a purely muggle town a short trip by muggle transport to his job.”

Albus sat back. “Well, I’m sure he will allow Miss Grant to visit her friends and such. There’s nothing wrong with living in the muggle world when your parent or guardian is a muggle.”

“Yes, but in the weeks since learning of her mother’s death, Melanie had several outbursts of accidental magic. She’s a very powerful young witch and her emotions are very volatile.”

“I’m sure the Obliviators will be available if necessary. And her grief will lessen as she spends time with her family and in her home. Now, anything else?”

Several other professors discussed students who had troublesome home situations of varying kinds and were brushed off by Dumbledore. He insisted that everything would be fine and that children exaggerated. None of the professors reported blatant abuse allegations or suspicions but Harry took note of all of the names and knew he would check on them all as surreptitiously as possible. And with his constantly growing powers as Master of Death, he could be incredibly surreptitious.

Finally, Albus started to bring the meeting to a close, but Rolanda Hooch spoke up. “Before we dismiss for the summer, I would like to know about Argus. Is he returning?”

Albus sighed. “I am working to get his release from Ministry holding. I still cannot understand why he was at that rally demonstration thing. He has a very good job in a magical school, his family didn’t disown him, they educated him themselves rather than abandoning him in the muggle world when they realized his - condition.”

Minerva rolled her eyes. “It was a march for squibs rights, Albus. And Argus is a squib. A fairly prominent one among other squibs due to his job here and his family situation. The Ministry overreacted and because they don’t like the idea of equal rights, they began cursing them. When several retaliated with thrown rocks, knives, and that one had a gun - Argus didn’t participate in the violence, he said, but the squibs didn’t start the fight. The Ministry claims they did, but witnesses, including witches and wizards who were nearby, claim otherwise. You need to open your eyes to how things are changing, Albus. There is a social revolution going on, on a number of levels, you should see the insanity that such has been in the muggle world. The idea of civil rights is not going away.”

“Hmmm. Things will work out and I am sure the DMLE will release Argus into my custody.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong to have to be in anyone's custody but his own, Albus!”

“Of course, of course. Now, Minerva, if you will—"

Emma Xavier who taught Runes interrupted. “Things are very odd out there, Albus. I live in a mixed village in Wiltshire. Just around 800 people, about sixty percent magical. Well, it was that ratio in September. But I got letters from several of my friends, over the past year there have been quite a few muggle deaths in the village, not just old people or accidents. Obviously magical killings. Over sixty muggles have died in nine months, most of them related to a magical, a spouse, a parent, a sibling, or some such. People are saying it’s the pureblood maniacs, hating the rise of this equality for muggleborns and half-bloods and others.”

Minerva nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard disturbing things, as well. We’re so insulated from the world here at Hogwarts. Unless the Prophet reports on it, things are just different here and we don’t know what the regular witch or wizard is seeing. Ones that live in the midst of muggles.”

Emma nodded. “There was even a werewolf attack in March.”

“A werewolf attack? Are they alright?” asked Pomona.

Emma smiled. “Yes, they lived. And they were given the cure that WERSIC & Co released three years ago. But still, it was horrible.”

Everyone nodded. Harry inwardly smiled. That cure was something he had brought with him from the future. Once he and Severus were settled and things were going well, he had created a company to hide that he was involved in such things. Wand of Elder Resurrection Stone Invisibility Cloak or WERSIC. He found it funny, even if no one would ever know what it stood for but him.

Albus smiled tightly. “Yes, yes, that was a wonderful invention. And allows children to not have to live with a horrible curse. But now, I think we should focus back on school matters. I know everyone wants to leave for their summer holiday, so Minerva has the schedule for the school’s deadlines. Minerva?”

“Yes, well, I need your book and supply lists by July 5 so that I can send out lists to new and returning students. Please remember to break it down by year. Then I will need your syllabi broken by class year and lesson plans for each major portion of your curriculum by August 20. For our new professors, although you don’t need to be living in the castle until the morning of September 1, after the Hogwarts Express has left for its journey here, your office and classrooms need to be ready as you want them by August 28. We will have a teachers meeting on August 30 and a full staff meeting on August 31. If you have any special requests for the configuration of your classroom, either before the school year begins or as it goes along, let me know and I will make sure the house elves see you for your instructions in a timely manner. Is there anything else school related before we dismiss?”

Septima Vector spoke up, “Yes, I would like to address the reason we lost the Defense professor. This is school related, Headmaster! I know the doings that we learned of were not illegal as the students were of age, and he wasn’t directly any of their professor. However, did anyone question him as to other liaisons he may have had that didn’t result in pregnancy? I highly doubt his seed is so fertile that every partner catches. How do we know he didn’t just get lucky and none of his possibly underage or direct students are pregnant? And how do we keep this from happening again?”

Minerva looked down at the table and scowled. “No, he wasn’t questioned about other partners. Albus felt it wasn’t necessary and he had learned his lesson by losing his job.”

“I was less concerned with the predator and more concerned with his  _ victims _ , actually, Minerva. Those children could be traumatized by finding out his activities with so many others.”

“Hmph. Well, hopefully, if there were others, they learned a lesson.”

“And what lesson is that, professor?” Asked Hadrian. “Adults are untrustworthy and uncaring?”

“No. That they should keep their hormones under control.”

Harry shook his head, and Septima rolled her eyes. “You are so very puritanical, Minerva.” The arithmancy professor groaned. “An adult who should have been able to be trusted betrayed them and used them for his own ends. And you blame the children, of age or not, and not the beast that preyed on them.”

Albus smacked the table lightly with his hand. “Yes, well, people have differing opinions on matters. And as for the children, well,” Albus’ nose twitched, and his eyes dimmed their habitual twinkle. “Two of the students that were affected were from somewhat prominent families and brought attention to the issue. When school resumes, every student will be taken to Madame Pomfrey for a health scan and two healers from Saint Mungo’s will be arriving to give each year, separated by gender, a talk about such things. I am told that the first through third years will be a much shorter talk, I assume due to their ages.”

Hadrian leaned forward and looked at the headmaster. “No, it is because they have all had over a year, minimum, of primary school. The first class, the rising fourth years here, only received a half year at primary and there were other focuses than sexual education. But in a full year curriculum it is part of the health and wellness course. The type of information provided is expanded as they get older, of course, but even the youngest get a hygiene course and an explanation on private parts of the body and who should and should not touch them there and how.”

Pomona looked at him. “Really? Why would they need to know that?”

Hadrian sighed. “It is an issue. In the muggle world  _ and  _ the magical one there are people who prefer to have sex with young children. And these predators can be good about convincing the children that it isn’t wrong for the to do this. The primary schools teach them that it is never okay. Whether the adult is a stranger, a teacher, a healer, or a family member.”

“That’s horrible. It can’t be common in the wizarding world.”

“Not common. It isn’t common in the muggle world either. But it does happen. And in the magical world, they have more ways to hide it, from healing potions to tricking the child into making a vow. They rarely use obliviation in such cases because it destroys all of the grooming of the child they did and they like long term victims. But those who like to simply force a child do use it. Though, those magicals most likely find their victims in the muggle world.”

Albus huffed. “Well, regardless, as I said, we will be having healers here to speak to our students about these matters in the coming year. If any student comes to one of you with questions, refer them to Madame Pomfrey.”

Emma leaned forward. “Can you tell us, Lord Peverell, what else do the primary schools teach exactly? I don’t believe we all understand it. I know I didn’t realize it was so - diverse. I knew from that first class that they were taught writing and numbers, it was glaringly obvious but -”

Filius cleared his throat. “Pardon me, but is it really that big of a difference? I had heard about the new magical primary day school system, of course, but I didn’t know it had made a discernible difference that quickly. They have only been around a couple of years, haven’t they?”

Septima chuckled. “Oh, it was discernible, alright. That first class that had all been to primary for at least a few months? When I read the first homework assignments, I thought I had grabbed a fourth-year stack by mistake. The parchments were all neat, no ink blotches, no scribbles, no smears, the handwriting was legible on them all, and the essays were logical and structured well. They weren’t all Outstandings, but compared to normal? Yes, it was different. But Lord Peverell knows more, I’m sure. He was one of the main creators of the system.

Hadrian nodded to her and looked around the table. “Just to provide a brief history, the Wizengamot passed the laws for the creation of the primary day school system and its standardized curriculum in the early fall of 1967. By the end of December, twelve primary schools were built and ready across the UK. They opened to students from ages five to those turned eleven  _ after  _ September 1st in early January of 1968. Each class has a population of nine to fifteen students. Students can floo, be side-apparated, or take a school purposed equivalent of the Knight Bus every morning and afternoon. Muggleborns all chose the bus option. The day starts at 8 in the morning and finishes at 3 in the afternoon. The school year runs Monday through Friday from the first Monday in September, unless that falls on the first of the month, to the second Friday in June with ten day long breaks at the end of December and the middle of March.

“The schools teach the basics, of course, how to read, how to write with a pencil - a graphite stick - and a quill, how to count and do basic mathematics, how to control their emotions and magic to cut down on incidents of accidental magic requiring the Obliviators. They also teach both muggle and magical history, muggle science basics, potion basics like preparing ingredients and practicing stirring and color shades, health and wellness as I said earlier, but which also includes physical fitness and eating healthy, how to think logically, how to write an essay as they get closer to upper schooling years, Latin and Ancient Greek, art and music both magical and muggle, creativity in writing versus fact based writing like journalism, muggle current events and culture, including things like styles of clothing and transport and amusement, magical culture, including current events and styles, religions, covens, conclaves, and rituals.”

“Really?” Filius bounced in his seat. “You teach muggleborns the Old Ways? Or just classes with purebloods only?”

Hadrian smiled at his former future Charms professor. “There is no such thing. All classes are created so that they are a good mix of pureblood, magical raised half-bloods, muggle-raised half-bloods, and muggleborn. Some are slightly more weighted one way or another, but none have a huge majority of any one type.”

“That’s amazing.”

Hadrian nodded. “Yes, and it brings to mind a recent law passed, or rather, one that will be enforced where it wasn’t previously. I don’t know if Headmaster Dumbledore informed you of it when it was decided in the Wizengamot in February. If Hogwarts wants to keep its charter and continue to operate as a school with sanction from the Ministry and the ICW, they must cease discrimination.”

Minerva drew up and Harry could practically see her animagus form around her. “We don’t discriminate! Muggleborns are treated very well in Hogwarts.”

“It wasn’t about how you treat muggleborns. Rather the opposite. You go so far in trying to cater to muggle sensibilities that you discriminate against those who practice religions that the muggles don’t. You’ve even changed school feasts to be more muggle. October 31 is not even an actual holiday in the muggle world in the UK. And yet, you have a Halloween feast with bats and skeletons and sweets, attendance at which is mandatory for all students, which discriminates against those who celebrate Samhain. Christmas, not Yule. You understand. You must allow each child to worship as they will, not force your will upon them. It is the law. Just as Hogwarts cannot turn away based on blood status, they cannot stop legal religious practices.”

Albus scowled. “I would have brought it up in August, my boy. We will, of course, comply with the law. Now, everyone have a pleasant summer holiday.”

**Chapter 7**

Harry and Severus were at the breakfast table one morning in mid-July. There was nothing particularly special about the day, it wasn’t a holiday or anyone’s birthday. It was a normal summer day.  _ Or, it would have been,  _ mused Harry,  _ if yesterday’s mail hadn’t brought Severus’ school supply letter. _ Severus had received his acceptance letter shortly before his eleventh birthday, but the school supply lists went out in their own batch in mid-summer. If the student had a summer birthday, then they received both at once, as Harry had once upon a time in the future that no longer was.

So, as per previous plans, today would be school supply shopping in Diagon Alley. Severus had been to Diagon Alley before. He had even bought school supplies for primary. But this, regardless of what else Harry changed,  _ this  _ was a huge day for young British magicals. Today, Severus Prince Peverell would claim his first wand.

Harry looked across the table at Severus as he tried to eat his breakfast with manners, and not simply scarf it down. His son was nearly vibrating in his seat as he held himself properly over his plate of soft-boiled eggs, toast, and bacon. 

Harry sipped his morning tea slowly and waited for his son to break. He knew it wouldn’t be much longer. Once Severus was done his repast, Harry had a bet with himself regarding how long it would be before the child broke through the desperately-wanting-to-be-seen-as-mature facade that Severus wore when his emotions were high.

No matter how old or in what timeline, Severus always had a poker face. The effectiveness of said poker face may vary with his age but he always tried to keep his emotions off his face. Severus did not wear his heart on his sleeve, as they say. It was a skill learned early from Tobias and Eileen and never unlearned, no matter how much better his life had become otherwise. And the fact that primary taught the basics of occlumency to help students focus their minds and their magic, didn’t help the matter.

But Harry knew his son. He knew that Severus had emotions, strong ones, and that once he didn’t have something directly in front of him to focus on, those emotions, and the impatience that they brought, would break through the mask and Severus would show the excited eleven-year-old on his first trip for  _ Hogwarts _ supplies.

Harry took the last bite of his own toast as Severus drained his milk glass. Severus placed his glass down and removed his napkin from his lap, patting his lips, as his gaze met Harry’s over the teacup once more at Harry’s mouth. Severus bit his lip as Harry slowly sipped his cooling tea and counted in his head. Before his internal count hit twenty, the boy broke.

“Aren’t you done yet, Dad? We’re going to Diagon Alley today! We have lots to buy and we’re meeting Lily and Jack and Fredericus and Pralina after lunch at Fortescue’s, remember?”

Harry lowered his empty cup and smiled. “I know, Sev. You made sure that the elves woke you at five this morning so you wouldn’t oversleep and miss it. And you made sure to make noise outside my door so I would join you in your wakefulness by half-past five. As a matter of fact, the clock just chimed seven. I know you’re excited, but while Gringotts is open around the clock, the shops don’t open until eight. So I suggest you go wash up, make your bed, and pick out what robes you want to wear today. We’ll leave around half-past seven and make a stop at the bank. By the time we’re done there, the shops should be open, alright? Get moving.”

Severus stood and nearly toppled his chair in his haste. He blushed as he righted it. “Sorry. Thank you, Dad.”

“Sure thing, your highness. See you in a few.”

Severus scowled at the nickname and hurried from the room. Harry cleaned himself up with his napkin and chuckled. He loved teasing his son with variations of playing on his mother’s maiden name, which Severus took as his middle name when the adoption finalized. 

The boy didn’t understand the full extent of Harry’s amusement at the ongoing joke, and wouldn’t for years, but Harry never let it go. He used it so much that some of Severus’ friends had even picked up on it and begun using it occasionally. 

Half an hour later, the Peverell father and son were in a Gringotts cart headed for their vault. Even after so many years, Harry loved the adrenaline rush and Severus enjoyed it, too. You’d never think it to look at him but Severus’ favorite ride at the muggle amusement parks they sometimes visited were the roller coasters. Harry couldn’t wait for him to try the inversion coasters in another few years.

Harry timed it right, and by the time their visit to the bank was completed - and some of Severus’ nerves were soothed by the cart ride - the shops of Diagon Alley were opening for business. Harry insisted that their first stop be the one they both liked least - clothing - more specifically, Madam Malkin’s for Severus’ school uniform robes. Severus grimaced but agreed, and to his surprise and pleasure, on the stool next to him was his best friend Lily Evans, getting her uniform measured.

“Sev, hey! You must have been up early. The shop only opened six minutes ago.” Lily smiled.

Severus chuckled. “You were in here before me, so what time did you get up?”

Lily wrinkled her nose. “Early enough. We got the train to London yesterday and spent the night at the Leaky Cauldron. We’ll take the Knight Bus back home since I’ll have my wand to use to summon it.”

Severus frowned. “You could have just come over to the island, Dad would have side-alonged you, and we all could have flooed together.”

Lily shook her head. “Mum and Da would never have imposed like that. Besides, we came to London early, first thing yesterday morning, so Petunia could get some shopping for  _ her  _ school done, too. She  _ never  _ would have used the floo or want to be apparated. She isn’t even here with us. Da took her to meet with one of her school friends last night and she’s spending the day with them. It was a huge argument to get her to agree to take the Knight Bus to get home.”

Severus nodded and Harry inwardly sighed. It seemed that Petunia Evans just would never appreciate the fact that her little sister was a witch when she herself wasn’t. He had overheard Severus and Lily talk about it before and though she wasn’t as vicious as she had been in Severus’ future memories of his first timeline past, Petunia still had no desire to know about magic.

When they finally finished getting measured for their uniforms Severus and Lily said their goodbyes. While in other circumstances they might have asked to do their shopping together, today was different. For one thing, this was their first Hogwarts shopping trip which was a rite of passage for young magicals in the UK. For another, they would be meeting up later in the afternoon with some other friends at Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor.

As they exited the robe shop, Severus turned pleading eyes on Harry. “Flourish and Blotts next?”

Harry chuckled. “No. Bookstore last or we’ll never get the rest done before the stores close for the day.”

Severus pouted for a moment before he sighed and nodded. “Okay. Then, what’s next?”

“Well, I think the best stop would be to get your trunk and book bag. You can use your old book bag if you want but I think a new one would be best. And a trunk, of course, can’t carry your uniforms in your school bag. Cobbler for your shoes and gloves, since Malkin’s doesn’t work with dragonhide. Then we can hit the various odds and ends stores for things like your telescope and parchment, quills, and ink. Apothecary for potions ingredients and supplies, Ollivander's to get you your wand, then finally the bookstore. And doing things in that order is not only efficient but it allows you to get used to using your trunk and bag as your orders get placed there after each store. Including the trip back to Malkin’s before we leave the Alley to pick up your order.”

Severus pursed his lips. “Okay. That sounds logical, Dad. Let’s go.”

It was a long morning, but after two hours, Severus’ new cherry trunk - three compartments, books, clothing, and drawers, compete with auto-sizing, expanded space, organizational charms, and basic password security with magical signature identification - was filled with various supplies. The order of shopping had changed a bit, as Harry could see through the door that Ollivander’s actually had a line of three children waiting to be measured. They went to the apothecary where Severus had convinced Harry to get him extra ingredients. Severus wasn’t as focused on potions as Harry’s first life - they connected too heavily to Eileen in the boy’s mind which was  _ not  _ a good association  _ this  _ time around - but he was still a potential master and enjoyed brewing and experimenting, within reason for his age.

When they returned to the wand maker’s shop, the child who had been last in line was leaving the shop, admiring the pine wand in his hand. Harry grinned as he held the door for his son, and they entered the magic filled shop.

Ollivander was standing behind the counter and gave them his creepy smile. “Lord Peverell. Young Mister Peverell.”

Hadrian inclined his head. “Master Ollivander.”

Severus drew his shoulders back and stared the old man right in the face. “Mister Ollivander, I’ve come to find my wand.”

Ollivander chuckled creepily. “Of course you have, young sir. Why else would an eleven year old be in my shop?” A measuring tape wound its way around Severus’ body as he held out his right hand, knowing from primary what was needed. “Normally I would discuss your parent’s wand while I measured you but alas, I didn’t sell it to him. A very powerful wand, that I  _ can  _ tell you, very interesting.”

Ollivander began to take boxes down from his shelves. “So busy this time of year, so many first wands. And I recall each one I’ve ever sold. They go out into the world in the hands of eager young boys and girls and they learn along with their wizard or witch. The wand chooses the wizard, Mister Peverell. Always, always, always. The wand chooses the wizard one way or another.”

He held out a box to the boy. “Holly and dragon heartstring, 9 ½ inches, rigid. Pick it up, give it a wave.”

Severus’ fingers barely even closed around the handle when the wand jerked from his hand and the lid slapped shut.

“No, most decidedly not. Odd, I’ve not gotten one so wrong in quite some time. Not a bit right with that.” He slid another box forward. “Unicorn hair and Silver lime, 8 inches, supple.”

Severus was able to pick the wand up but waving it just produced a light wind.

“No, not that one either, but something was right. Hmm.”

Harry stood back and observed as Severus tried wand after wand and Ollivander’s smile grew. Pine, beech, walnut, hickory, willow, spruce, bendy, springy, swishy, supple, whippy, hard, various lengths. Until at last, Ollivander pursed his lips and peered at Severus piercingly. After two minutes of this unrelenting stare, Ollivander's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. 

He came around to the front of the counter and walked to the front window of the store. He reached into the display and  _ under  _ the pillow and pulled out a wand. He turned around and handed it to Severus. “See what that makes of you, young man.”

Severus’ hand closed around the handle and he closed his eyes as a light glowed around him. He had found his wand. 

Ollivander hummed. “Very interesting, Mister Peverell. Very interesting. Hawthorn and unicorn hair with a vein of mithril running around the handle, 10 ½ inches, hard but not rigid. Very special wand, made quite some time ago, waiting all these many years for  _ you _ . I look forward to your future, Mister Peverell.  _ Very  _ much indeed.”

Severus bit his lip and looked at Harry with uncertainty. Harry smiled and nodded at him and the boy relaxed. “Thank you, Master Ollivander.”

Harry purchased the wand and a dragon hide wand holster for Severus’ arm and they left. Severus looked at Harry. “I don’t understand, Dad. Why - my wand—"

Harry placed his hand on Severus’ shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Severus. Ollivander makes his reputation by being creepy and cryptic and odd. I think it comes from being saturated in so much unaffiliated magic every day.”

“So, I’m not weird?”

“You are a normal wizard, eleven years old, ready to start Hogwarts. And on his way to the bookstore. I will get your school list and you can get your extra reading.  _ Seven _ non-fiction, reference books, and no more than  _ ten _ fiction, Severus. We’ll take a trip to the muggle bookstore for more fiction later in the summer.”

Severus sighed. “Fine.”

**Chapter 8**

It was late August and Harry was back at Hogwarts to ready his classroom and office. It was earlier than the deadline of the 28th by over a week but Harry chose this day because he knew for sure Albus would  _ not  _ be in the castle. It was the next to last scheduled day for the summer session of the ICW. And Albus would need to be there all day long. It gave Harry hours to get things done without the worry of those twinkling blue eyes.

Harry  _ did  _ plan to make sure his office and classroom were ready, but he could always come back, if necessary, to finish that. He’d sent his requests for furniture set-up and such things weeks ago, so it should just be a matter of tweaking things and adding personal touches. When he had arrived, Minerva had thanked him for his clear syllabi and lesson plans and given him a basic map of the castle and grounds and his patrol schedule, though she warned that could be subject to change before the 1st.

So now, Harry was wandering the halls, seemingly following the map, making tick marks on it for the location of broom closets and trick doors, “discovering” a few of the secret passages that were more obvious than the rest, slowly and inexorably wandering to a specific wing of the seventh floor, a wing empty of portraits but with some tapestries, including one of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance ballet. 

Upon his arrival, he paced back and forth in front of the blank wall across from the tapestry and after the third pass, a door appeared. Harry opened the door and slipped inside, and the door disappeared behind him. Surrounding him were towering stacks of furniture and various detritus that had been lost or abandoned or hidden over the centuries at Hogwarts. 

Harry wandered the aisles, marveling at the immensity, overhearing in its echo of the length of history embodied in the school. No matter how many times he saw this configuration of the room, it always amazed him. After a bit of wandering, Harry found the diadem that Tom desecrated with a torn piece of his soul. 

Over the past five years since he had arrived in this time, Harry had discovered several interesting powers that seemed to accompany his Master of Death title. He had still not seen hide nor hair nor bone nor scythe of a literal personification of death, but he dreamed of himself doing things, and when he attempted them once awake, they worked.

One of the most interesting - and for his current purpose, most important - was the ability to move souls - or fragments of souls as the case may be. He first used this power when he visited the cave by the seaside that had once - would have once - house the locket horcrux. He knew that Tom had used Kreacher in 1979 to test the potion protection in the basin on the underground lake, but Harry had not been sure if that was when he placed the horcrux there or if it had been a final piece of the puzzle. Kreacher said that Tom had placed the locket in the basin after the potion had been drunk by the poor elf, but it could have already been in the cave. 

When Harry went there, the cave entrance was sealed, waiting to be opened by blood. Harry had gone inside, found the lake, and the boat, but most of the deadliest parts of the trap were missing. There were less than a dozen inferi resting in the water. But the island in the center held a box with a withering curse and within the box was the locket.

Harry had reached out to pick up the foul thing and when his hand neared it, it tingled. Harry recalled a dream from a few weeks before and decided to give it a try. He laid the index finger of his wand hand on the locket, and with his mind called for the soul piece to come forth and exit the container that housed it. After a few seconds of struggle, it obeyed and hovered in the air above the closed locket. Harry had lifted his finger and wrapped his hand around the pulsing red ball. As he closed his fist, the fragment vanished, and Harry knew that it had moved on into limbo.

Harry had replaced the feel of Tom’s magic around the locket, reset the trapped box, and left the way he had come. He hadn’t wanted to leave signs of his presence. It was obvious by the lack of inferi that Tom would return to this cave many times in the coming years to completely fill the lake with them. Harry didn’t want to be cocky and assume he wouldn’t check on the locket's presence each time. It wouldn’t do for the dark idiot to make new horcruxes that Harry didn’t know about because he knew someone was after his current ones.

Some experimentation with the power showed Harry that he had no control over souls within a living host. Or, to be accurate, a living body holding a single soul was safe from his power. Possessions - as Quirrelmort from Harry’s 1st year in 1991 - was different and he had freed several people from unwilling possessions by other souls. He could also force ghosts to cross over with a bit of willpower put into his touch. He also called souls forth from within all of the dementors of Azkaban when he visited there under Death's Invisibility no-longer-a-physical-cloak. Harry believed that he might actually be able to destroy those foul, evil things, but it wasn’t time to try yet.

For now, Harry sent the soul fragment within the diadem on to limbo with others from the locket and the ring. He still had not decided what to do with the priceless relic. It would be far too suspicious for him, a new professor, to claim he found it while wandering the school, whether today or in the future. He felt horrible on a number of levels just leaving it here to be lost forever. Perhaps he could plant it somewhere for some intrepid explorers to find, hidden in an obscure secret passage behind failing charms and wards. He would think on it further. For now, Harry ambled back towards his classroom, making more notations on the map.

Harry finished placing his books and lesson plans in a warded bookcase in his office, and looked around. It was well set up. His desk was a warm cherry with a comfortable office chair behind it and two slightly less comfortable straight back chairs in front of it. His more advanced books and materials were either in the warded bookcase behind his desk or in the locked and warded desk drawers. An open bookcase was near the door with the more basic books within it. The walls had abstract art paintings that were warded against portrait wanderers. The final touch was the wizarding photographs of Severus on the corner of his desk.

He nodded in satisfaction and walked out onto the balcony overlooking the classroom. Harry had always found this room ridiculous. The balcony never failed to make him think of Romeo and Juliet, and considering  _ his  _ office was up here, the inference displeased him. He shook his head in amusement at his own inner absurdity. He wasn’t sure if this was something that the house elves were able to change but he would ask them. Harry would much prefer to have his office on the same level as the classroom, possibly next door, but at least no steps and balcony.

The rest of the room was configured as he had requested. The desks were in a large single row horseshoe shape with his teacher’s desk a few feet from the open end. There were two large chalkboards to either side of the desk, like wings. There were pictures on the wall of wand movements and spell fire, as well as some magical creatures that would be dealt with in his class rather than Professor Kettleburn’s class. The difference, of course, being that his class learned to subdue them or escape them while the other learned to take care of them and keep them alive. Domestication was the key, something that Hagrid had never quite grasped in Harry’s future past. Draco’s query in fourth year had been rudely put and asked simply to goad Hagrid, but it had been a legitimate question to ask for that class. What good  _ were _ Blast-Ended Skrewts? The answer: they had no use. Even years later, no one had found use in any of their parts, even for potions. If the skrewt had existed in nature before Hagrid bred them, they would have been covered in DADA, not Care. They were unable to be domesticated and had no practical use.

To the side of the classroom near the balcony, there was a door which Harry was quick to inspect. It led to a full-sized dueling room, complete with mats, mirrors, and dummies, exactly as he had pictured. It was somewhat reminiscent of the Dumbledore’s Army configuration of the Room of Requirement. Harry shook off the memories the room provoked and headed back into the classroom. He took a seat behind the teacher’s desk and looked across the horseshoe. He could see every seat, and under every desk, from here. 

Harry knew from his own time as a student that teachers needed to keep an eye out. And considering his first-year classes would hold the Marauders, even if they never became such a group now, they were still handfuls on their own. Harry wondered how the changes in each of their lives would impact their Hogwarts years. He’d met each of them, some briefly, some for longer, due to his lecture circuit of the primary schools. However, he had made sure when planning with Jonder, that each past-perhaps-future Marauder attended a different primary school. Sirius attended the school just outside of London, Remus was in Dorset, Pettigrew was in Cornwall, and James was in Wales. Severus, living primarily in the middle of Morecambe Bay was close enough to Manchester, and therefore Cokeworth, to attend the same primary as Lily Evans. And their friendship had formed once more, though as Harry had hoped, it was much less desperate on Severus’ part. 

Each of the Marauders had been affected by the changes Harry’s time travel had created, though two of them more profoundly than the other two. James had been called on his spoiled attitude and learned to reign it in at school to an extent. Peter had been brought out of his shell a bit and taught to stand up to bullies. Remus had been a recipient of the werewolf cure and was now a normal wizard, though his sense of smell was still slightly enhanced, and the scars remained.

Sirius, though, it could be argued that his was the most profound change of the four. When the Blacks were forced to send their sons to primary, by law,  _ and  _ by patriarch Lord Arcturus Black’s command, the school discovered curse damage on the two boys. It wasn’t childish accidental magic residue or something else fairly innocuous. It was the remains of several illegal and  _ borderline  _ illegal dark curses, including the Cruciatus. Child Services was called in along with the aurors and an investigation revealed that Walburga Black was responsible. She was arrested, tried, convicted, and sent to Azkaban for life. 

Orion Black petitioned for and was granted a ritual divorce. He had been forced to marry his cousin and family magic cast on him by his grandfather had ensured that he would remain with her. The magic, not just dark but utterly  _ black _ , had twisted his personality and magic, nearly a form of Imperius. Walburga had reinforced the directive four times a year on each solstice and equinox. With the divorce, Orion was able to cleanse himself, the London townhouse and the family magic well of the taint. 

The family magic had lashed out in response once Orion had been healthy once more. Several of the Blacks from Walburga’s branch were stripped of their connection to the family magics and lost much of their power. A few younger members of the family had their minds cleared of the so-called Black Madness, though not all of them.

Sirius and Regulus were healed of their curse damage caused by their mother and taken care of by this new man their father had become, the man Orion had been before he was forcefully betrothed to Walburga.

Harry wondered how things would be different in the Marauders-to-be once they arrived. Where would they sort? 

James Potter - Harry was sure he was still headed for the lions. 

Sirius - he had learned that Slytherin and pureblood didn’t equal evil, that houses and families had good and bad people and he hadn’t needed to learn to be so brash and daring to survive. So perhaps the lions again but perhaps the snakes or even the eagles. His mind was quite sharp when he applied himself, both in primary and in Harry’s memories.

Remus - he had spent years fighting the wolf inside, but it had been gone for a time now. And his brain, it had always been his defining characteristic beyond the pull of the moon. So lion or eagle?

Peter - his sorting had always baffled Harry. He wasn’t brave, daring, or courageous. The Peter that was had been cowardly, sneaky, and disloyal. He wasn’t really smart, and he wasn’t hard working - twelve years as a house pet known for being able to sleep anywhere. But he did have a sly cunning and ambition. How was he not sorted to Slytherin? He wasn’t muggleborn.

An idea occurred to Harry. Peter wasn’t the only odd sort that he had come across in his previous life. Hermione was really not a good fit for Gryffindor, at least not until much later in her life than first year. Draco  _ was  _ really more of a brash lion than a sly snake. Goyle wasn’t cunning or ambitious but he  _ was  _ loyal. Ron was ambitious, as were Percy, Fred, and George. 

_ Could Dumbledore have gone that far? Yes.  _ Harry rolled his eyes at himself.  _ Of course, he  _ could _. But  _ did _ he? One way to find out and he’s not in the castle today to stop me! _

**Chapter 9**

Harry and Severus disembarked from the Knight Bus and walked into King’s Cross Station. They were going the muggle way rather than flooing so that Severus would have the experience and know the way if he needed it in the future. As they approached the pillar between the muggle platforms 9 and 10, Harry heard echoes in his head:

_ What’s the platform number, again? _

_ Best go at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. _

He shook it off and focused on the present, not the never future. Severus led the way, his trunk shrunk in his pocket. Primary had a special class near the end of the year for those who would be going to Hogwarts in the fall and had shown maps and pictures of the station. Severus stopped five feet from the portal and glanced back at Harry. Harry nodded and smiled. “Go on, I’ll meet you on the other side.”

Severus nodded and stepped up to the pillar. He glanced around and when he saw no one paying attention he strode through the portal, head high, back straight, at an early version of his future stalk, the only thing missing the flaring robes. But Harry had seen him take a deep breath in and hold it as he passed through. Harry walked up and through the portal and entered the bustle of Platform 9 ¾. They weren’t Weasley family late - five minutes or less to spare - but they weren’t insanely early either. The platform was pleasantly full of families saying goodbye for months. 

Severus waited for Harry to catch up and then pointed out his friends, Lily and Pralina, and their families near the middle of the platform. They went to meet them, and Severus greeted his friends while Harry turned to the adults, saying his hellos.

“The day is here, they’re off to Hogwarts.”

Lily’s mother, Daisy, nodded. “I can’t believe it. I mean, she’s been going to magical primary every day for over three years, but this is so different, so much more magical.”

Pralina Herrington’s father, Reginald, a half-blood, smiled. “For them, too. I never went to a magical primary, didn’t have them back in the dark ages when I was young, but the first trip on the Hogwarts Express is a special thing. It signals the transition from young child to adolescent. I worry for them but that’s a father's job, I think. Or a mother’s.”

The other parents nodded. Harry sighed. “Well, don’t tell the kids, Severus knows but has been sworn to silence, I’ll be around to keep an eye on the tykes. I’ve been hired to take the vacant Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship. I can’t play favorites, but I’ll be there to watch over them and make sure you’re all kept in the loop of the going ons. And I’ll nag them to write at least once a week.”

Daisy smiled. “Oh, that’s so wonderful, to have someone I know, someone who knows our kids, there with them. I’m sure Severus will be properly mortified by his dad teaching his classes, but it isn’t like he hasn’t had the experience before.”

“Well, I’ve done the lecture circuit thing but not been his primary teacher.” Harry paused, his brow furrowed at what he had said. “No pun intended. So, it won’t be quite the same and he understands that in class and other formal interactions that I will be Professor Peverell. It’ll be weird for me, too, but I think it’ll be good to get an insider’s view of Hogwarts and how it is working - or not, as the case may be. Educational reform, that’s me.”

Reginald tilted his head. “Good point. There have been some odd rumors floating about the past few years. You’ve streamlined the pre-Hogwarts schooling, now you’re taking on the old girl herself. Let me or Jonder know if you need anything from our departments.”

“Always, my friend.”

Severus and his friends broke off their conversation as the rest of their pack, Jack and Fredicus, appeared. The groups broke apart into family groupings once more and Harry embraced his son. “I know this isn’t for long but it will be different in a few hours.”

“I know, Dad. I feel so odd, like homesick but we’ve barely left home and you’ll be  _ there _ .”

“But I’ll be in my rooms, which while they have a bedroom for you, if needed, won’t be occupied often. You’ll be up in one of the towers or down in the dungeons. In a dorm with others in your House and year. That’s new. You don’t like change, Severus. You never have, you fear it will be a bad change, one that you can’t control. But you have friends, they’ll be in your year, in classes with you, one or more possibly in your House. And you’ll make new friends, and see old faces who you weren’t close with in primary but may become closer with now at Hogwarts. Just follow your heart  _ and  _ consult your brain. Be logical  _ and  _ don’t ignore what your magic is telling you. You’re growing up, my little prince, and it’s a scary thing. But no matter what you face in the future, good or bad, I’ll always be there for you. You’re my son. I chose you to be part of my family and gave you your place in our Family Magic. I love you, Severus Prince Peverell.”

Severus hugged Harry hard around his waist, his long arms just enough to reach, where not long ago they couldn’t. He sniffled and whispered. “I love you, too, Dad.”

Harry held onto the boy for a few more seconds, reluctant to let the moment go. At last he brushed Severus’ hair behind his ears and kissed his forehead. “Now, enough rampant emotionalism. There’s a time and a place and frankly, this  _ was  _ one of them. But the train’s about to leave in less than ten minutes and you all should get a compartment and get settled in before it starts moving. Have a good trip and be open to making friends and try not to make any enemies, okay?”

Severus nodded and straightened his back, his chin lifting. “I’ll see you soon, Dad.”

“That you will.”

Severus turned and headed towards the train steps, his friends joining him soon after. Those with full-sized trunks were assisted by Severus and Fredicus, both of whose were shrunk. Reginald cast feather light charms, and the children climbed aboard the train. After a few minutes, a window one car down opened, and they waved as the train began to move down the track. Harry waved goodbye to his son, hoping his first trip went better than Severus’ first trip in the previous timeline or Harry’s own first trip - bullies finding a new target, false friendships, and rejected friendships leading to bitter rivalry.

***

Harry slid into a seat at the head table in the Great Hall. Other than Dumbledore, who sat on the throne-like chair in the center of the table, the professors didn’t have assigned seats, though many did have preferred ones. And when Hagrid ate in the Great Hall he always sat on the end on a reinforced chair. Several of the teachers were already there when Harry arrived, and he chose a seat between Emma Xavier and Filius Flitwick near the end of the table by the Gryffindor table. His other choices either put him next to Slughorn - someone he wanted to avoid as long as possible - or near Dumbledore - some place he had no desire to be. Also, Harry figured that he and Filius would be expected to gravitate to one another, both being new professors, which Harry didn’t mind at all. He had always liked Filius, though he wished the other man was more attentive to the bullying in his House when he was Head.

The Great Hall began to fill up with the returning students and many of the younger years gaped when they caught sight of him. His presence and presumed job were spreading quickly through the gossiping hoard, from the younger years who had him as a guest lecturer in their primary schools, to the older ones via older siblings or overheard remarks. Harry simply smiled and ignored it.

Minerva emerged from the staff room behind the table and placed the stool and Sorting Hat in front of the staff table. She then walked down the center of the middle aisle and as she passed the talking died down to whispers which slowly faded when the main doors opened, and she led the lines of firsties to the front. 

Harry recognized all sixty-three of them. He knew some of them more than others, either through Severus or through his future past life. He recalled how he felt when he waited in the much smaller group during his first trip to Hogwarts. He was so nervous, convinced he wouldn’t be sorted and would have to return to the Dursleys. Yet he still argued with the Sorting Hat to keep him out of Slytherin and away from Draco Malfoy, already his schoolyard enemy.

As he listened to the song sung by the sentient hat, he mused on how different its songs were. This one was basic and straightforward, much like the song from Harry’s first year, no cryptic warnings or ominous messages. He was extremely curious where some specific students would be sorted. And he looked forward to Dumbledore’s frustration, as the magics he and others had put on the Hat over the centuries had been stripped from it weeks ago during a stealthy trip to the Headmaster’s office, not to mention the ward he had weaved to prevent it from ever happening again.

Minerva unrolled the scroll and called out, “Alminster, Curran!”

A young boy with straight blond hair slid onto the stool and after fifteen seconds, the Hat called, “Ravenclaw!”

“Appleby, Raina!”

“Gryffindor!”

“Black, Sirius!”

Harry watched a so young version of his godfather take a seat on the stool and disappear under the brim. Harry knew that the first time around Sirius had been sitting there for quite some time before he got his way to avoid Slytherin. He wondered if his mother’s arrest and conviction would change his desires, or how it had affected his personality. Harry’s eyebrow raised minutely when after only six seconds on the head, the Hat cried, “Hufflepuff!”

Sirius always  _ was  _ loyal, to a fault, sometimes, like the dog that was his animagus form. His loyalty to Dumbledore and Peter Pettigrew got him locked up for over a decade and eventually killed.

The sorting continued on and on, the tables filling, Severus’ friends among them, all but one having names in the first half of the alphabet. 

Harry watched as his mother walked to the stool in response to the call, “Evans, Lily!” She remained under the hat for a good thirty seconds, her head tilting slightly seven seconds in - Harry was counting. At last, the free hat opened its mouth, “Ravenclaw!”

Herrington, Pralina went to Slytherin while Grant, Jack ended up in Hufflepuff. Then more students Harry recognized but didn’t really know. Before the former werewolf, “Lupin, Remus!” was called to take his turn. Less than three seconds later the Hat caroled out, “Ravenclaw!”

Two more snakes, a badger, and a lion were sorted when “Pettigrew, Peter!” rang out. A brief seven seconds on the stool saw a yell of “Slytherin!” send the former -future? - rat to a different House.

Then, Harry’s son was called, “Peverell, Severus!”

Severus strode to the front of the hall and turned with a flourish to sit facing the students. The Hat dropped on his head and only Harry’s insider knowledge of his child revealed to him Severus’ nerves. To most others watching, his mask would be pureblood perfect. Twenty seconds Severus sat on the stool, awaiting his fate. Then, “Ravenclaw!” 

Harry clapped slightly more vehemently for his son as he joined Lily and Remus at the table of the blue and gold. Just as Sirius escaping his abuse led to a new House, so too did Harry’s rescue of Severus from Tobias and Eileen. Severus still held some Slytherin traits, to be sure, but they weren’t as well developed, and he valued learning things more than cunning and the ambition to be better than his parents.

Plovertell, Mariven was sent to Slytherin and then Harry’s future father was called, “Potter, James!” James swaggered up the aisle, cocky and full of himself. His bullying at primary had been curtailed by his teachers but he was still incredibly spoiled by his parents and felt superior to basically everyone. And like a blond in Harry’s own first year, the Hat barely brushed James’ head when it sent him to his House. 

“Gryffindor!”

The Marauders-that-once-were had been sorted and ironically, each went to a different House. Harry wondered how their interactions would develop now. Would they be friends at all? Enemies? Simply classmates? He doubted their group would form as before, the House separation too much of a divide to cross. But some of them might manage it.

The sorting continued for another twenty minutes, Gryffindor gaining two more male lions and three female, while Slytherin gained four female snakes and one male. Hufflepuff swelled with a further seven male badgers and five female, and Ravenclaw claimed three female eagles and one male. With a final call of “Yaverian, Fredicus!” Minerva rolled up her scroll and the boy was sorted into Slytherin.

Harry glanced at the headmaster as he stood to welcome everyone before calling for dinner and smiled. The old man’s arms were much more rigid than the normal fluid movements. It was a small tell but Harry enjoyed it. The Manipulator didn’t get his way and he was frustrated. But the students were where they  _ belonged _ , where they were  _ meant  _ to be.

 

**Chapter 10**

Hadrian stood at the front of his classroom on the first day of classes. His very first class would throw him into the deep end right off the bat. It was the 7th year mixed House NEWT level students. It was a fairly large class, percentage wise, for the size of their graduating class. Assuming no outside interference - such as death or worse, being expelled, and assuming no inside interference - failing out or dropping out, the current 7th years would graduate 68 strong. Of those 68, a whopping 24 were taking the NEWT DADA class. Nine Gryffindors, four Hufflepuffs, five Ravenclaws, and six Slytherins would take the test in June. 

In his past, fourteen of them would become Death Eaters and three more unmarked but supportive spouses of marked Death Eaters. Harry planned to do his very best to change those statistics for the better. If he had his way the number would be zero. None of them were yet marked at this moment and locked onto that future path. 

Tom Riddle didn’t start to mark un-graduated school children until the late 1970s. He just didn’t have the backing to do so until the war was more under way and the terror and his ideology had spread. 

Harry had direct past interactions in his future with three of those in this class - Slytherins Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black to-be-Malfoy and Ravenclaw Quirinus Quirrell, who Harry actually killed in self-defense when he was eleven. 

The classroom had been fixed as he had requested and the Shakespearean balcony that had led to the office was gone. The office was now on the same floor as the classroom and its door was behind his teaching desk. 

The students entered and sat down in the horseshoe set-up by House, fairly automatically. The Gryffindors were on the one side nearest to him, with the Hufflepuffs next to them, followed by the Ravenclaws, and then the Slytherins directly across the horseshoe from the Gryffindors. Once seated at their desks there was no talking or taunting as Harry suspected the younger years might engage in - as he and his friends and enemies had when they were in school. 

Once the class was seated, Harry flicked his hand, sans wand at the door and it closed. He smiled at the wide-eyed looks several of the class gave him and the considering looks from the Slytherin side. 

After taking the roll, Hadrian stood in front of his desk and faced the class. “Welcome to your NEWT year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Some of you may recognize me or know who I am. For those that don’t, my name is Hadrian Peverell, Lord Peverell. You may call me Professor Peverell, regardless of your station. I do not expect or require noble protocols to be followed in the classroom or school setting. If we meet socially or formally, obviously this rule does not apply.

“I know that you have had an odd time with this class. Your first three years you had the same instructor who then retired. Thereafter each year has had a new professor. This may have led to some things being missed through no fault of yourselves. This class meets three times a week. In our first month of classes, I will be doing mostly review of what you should have learned, spells and theory, in your first six years of instruction. Thereafter, we will focus on new material, plus intensive catch-up of anything the majority of the class didn’t know or didn’t grasp from previous years. I believe that every member of this class is capable of getting at least an E, if not an O, on their NEWT. Are there any questions, so far?”

Several hands went up and Hadrian pointed to one of the Ravenclaws, Quirrell to be precise. “You said that we would move on if the majority understood something. W-What if you aren’t in that majority?”

“This is a large class, Mister Quirrell, if there is a spell or theory that the majority understand, and we move on, but you aren’t in that majority, I have office hours posted and we can meet and discuss it. I also encourage the formation of study groups or the use of in-school tutors. I don’t have the time to individually tutor people intensively, however if a large portion of the minority are struggling with something, I can make time to have sessions with that group for  _ that _ topic. I simply do not want to bog down the entire class because one or two cannot quite get something. You are all of age, you are adults in that sense, if you are serious about wanting to get a NEWT in this subject, you should know your resources by now. If you aren’t serious about it, feel free to drop out. The NEWT for this subject is not for the faint of heart.

“Let’s get started, shall we? This class is Defense Against the Dark Arts, so what are the Dark Arts?”

Several students raised their hands and Hadrian chose one of the Hufflepuffs. “Mr. Hunt?”

“Dark Arts are spells and curses that are illegal and cause madness over time if used.”

Hadrian pursed his lips. “Close to the Ministry approved definition, two points to Hufflepuff. Your NEWT will look for a longer answer but essentially, Dark Arts are magic that has been classified by the Ministry as illegal to use. Some rituals that are so classified as they can cause core damage or direct brain damage that could lead to insanity, but most don’t. What are the most illegal of the spells in this category? Miss Tanner.”

“Um, the Unforgivables.” She bit her lip when Hadrian simply raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh, um, the Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse, sir.”

“Well done, four points to Gryffindor. Take a lesson from this, expand to a reasonable extent upon your answers, give specifics or examples. The first answer Miss Tanner gave was perfectly correct, the Unforgivables would be the answer to the question I posed. However, it would get you an Acceptable. To get that Exceeds Expectations, the second half of the answer is required. Can anyone tell me how to expand the answer to possibly an Outstanding? Mister Malfoy?”

“The three Unforgivable curses are considered the worst of them by the Ministry of Magic. The use of them on a human is a guaranteed life sentence in Azkaban. The Unforgivables are the Imperius Curse which gives total control of the victim to the caster, the Cruciatus Curse, which causes pain along the entire nervous system at one time and can lead to a mind fracture if held under it too long, and the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, which is instant death and is unsurvivable. None of these curses can be blocked by a magical shield, only a physical one.”

“Well stated, Mister Malfoy. Eight points to Slytherin, and that would certainly be an Outstanding grade answer. It had examples which were explained, but you stayed on topic and didn’t wander to adjacent ideas that were not relevant. Now, Mister Malfoy pointed out several interesting things about the Unforgivables. Which one is a main reason for their status? Miss Sandoval?”

“The fact that they are unblockable.”

“Correct. Three points to Ravenclaw. But there are other spells that can only be blocked by physical shields, why are there only three Unforgivables? Yes, Miss Black?”

“Because they have no counter. The Imperius cannot be broken by another. The Cruciatus victims who lose their minds are forever lost, and the pain and nerve damage can only be healed with time, potions simply help mask the damage.”

“Correct, five points to Slytherin.  _ That  _ is what the NEWT examiners will expect to see in your essays. The  _ truth  _ is a bit more complex. The Imperius  _ can _ be broken, either by the victim if their will is great or their self-knowledge is high, or by someone else if their power levels are higher than the caster. If the caster has a higher power level than the victim and/or greater magical control, it is harder to break. And when someone is under the Imperius, there is no outward sign. Some say that a poorly cast Imperius shows in the eyes, but that is hogwash. Although researchers are working on it, there is currently no spell to test for the presence of the Imperius. Now, one you may not be able to answer. Why were these spells created?” Ten seconds passed before a Gryffindor raised their hand, tentatively. “Take a stab at it, Mister Langdon.”

“So evil dark wizards could try to take over?”

“No. And I expect this class to be logical, not inflammatory. I won’t take points today because I don’t think you were trying to be, but in the future, keep it in mind. Dark does not equal evil. In society today, it is often confused so, through ignorance or malice, but it isn’t so. When we begin covering new information in a month or so we will discuss how Dark magic isn’t even dark. We began this discussion today by stating that Dark Arts were spells and such that were deemed illegal by the Ministry. It has nothing to do with evil or good. Anyone else want to try and answer my question?”

The class looked around at each other and you could hear the metaphorical crickets chirping. 

“Okay, both the Cruciatus and the Imperius were originally created to be healing spells and were used that way for hundreds of years. The Imperius was used to help patients with bad obsessive thoughts and behaviors which harmed themselves or others, addictions, self-harming, eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, severe depression. The Cruciatus was used with paralysis victims to stimulate magical healing of their nerves once things like a broken spine were healed. The Killing Curse was a farmer’s best friend. It killed livestock painlessly. However, over time people began to pervert the use of these spells until now, very few even know their benign or even helpful origins. Our time is almost up for today, so I will leave you with this thought, Magic is all about intent. 

“For your homework, I want a list of five Defense spells you learned in each year you were here and a two foot maximum essay describing how one from each year could be perverted to harm or kill. You have until next week to turn it in and I want original ideas. I don’t want everyone to have the same answers. Think creatively, think broadly, think narrowly. Be logical. Class dismissed.”

The NEWT students gathered their things and began to leave the classroom, some in a rush, others talking in low voices and glancing back at Hadrian as he leaned against his desk, smiling.

***

Harry watched as his last class of the day entered the room. It was the first-year class of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. He started Thursdays with the most advanced students and ended it with the least, with two mid-range classes in between. But, though the first years were new to Hogwarts, they weren’t new to him. He knew them all to some extent, thanks to wizarding primary, whether they were pureblood, half-blood, or muggleborn. The only ones he wouldn’t know were those who moved to the UK from another country within the last four months. And there were no such children in this year’s class. 

The students came in and settled down in the horseshoe of desks, mostly segregated by House but not entirely. A few sections had a mixed group who were friends from primary, like how Jack Grant was seated next to Severus with Lily on Severus’ other side. Severus was in the second desk from the opening of the horseshoe and Jack was in the first.

Hadrian smiled at the class as they quieted. “Good afternoon and welcome to your first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of your Hogwarts career. I recognize everyone from my lecture circuit, and I have a pretty good memory, so let’s see if I can do the roll without you raising your hands.”

Harry proceeded to accomplish just that, with a twist. As he said each name and pointed at the correct student, he wandlessly and wordlessly turned their wand hand yellow - for the Hufflepuffs, or blue - for the Ravenclaws and their non-wand hand blue - for the Hufflepuffs, or yellow - for the Ravenclaws.

The students laughed and giggled, and Severus rolled his eyes at his father's antics as his hands were changed and the professor remarked, “I think I know this one, name seems familiar, Severus Peverell.”

When the roll had been called, Hadrian put the parchment down and smiled at the colorful class. “So, everyone’s here. Good start to the year. You wouldn’t like to find out what kind of punishment I give for cutting my class. Legitimate excuses for missing, like being in the infirmary, are one thing. Just not coming because you feel like napping or something else as foolish is another story and will bring penalties upon penalties. 

“This class is a very important one for your life - literally. What you learn in this class could truthfully one day save your life or the life of someone close to you. You all have had me as a teacher before, even if only for a week or so at a time, and you know that I take my subject very seriously and expect you to do the same. 

“Which isn’t to say that DADA can’t be fun, too, as evidenced by your colorful hands. So, your first task is one you should be able to do already as I went over it in my lecture last year, and the year before, and the year before. What am I talking about?”

Ninety percent of the class raised their hands and Hadrian chose the last one to do so. “Mister Black?”

“The Finite spell?”

“Are you asking me a question or telling me an answer?”

“Telling, Professor. Sorry. The Finite spell,  _ Finite Incantatem _ .”

“Correct, three points to Hufflepuff. And well done with expanding on your original answer by giving the incantation. Take another two points for that decision. You have all heard lectures on the Finite spell and you know how it works.

“Normally when I have you using your wands, we would be next door.” Hadrian points to the door in the wall to his right. “That is the practical room for this class. But this isn’t really ‘casting’ as you are cancelling a spell. So, first I want you to use your wand to Finite the color of your left hands - right hands if you are left handed. You all know the incantation and pronunciation, and Mister Black just refreshed your memories if you forgot. Go.” 

As the students began getting their wands out of pockets, bags, or holsters, Hadrian waved his hand at the chalkboard behind his desk on the right. The name of the spell, its definition, and the incantation appeared.

Within five minutes every non-wand hand in the room was back to its normal shade. When the final student completed the task, Hadrian smiled. “Well done. See, this class isn’t that bad. Now though, you have a problem. Anyone care to tell me what it is? Miss Evans?”

“The Finite spell requires a touch or at least a point at the spelled object - or person. And wands don’t bend like that so we can’t change our wand hands with our wands.”

“True. Three points to Ravenclaw. Who can provide a solution that will keep you from leaving here with colorful hands?”

The class looked at one another and then a lone student raised their hand. “Miss Bordleigh?”

“We could work in pairs or groups and help each other.”

Hadrian grinned. “An utterly Hufflepuff answer, you are a credit to your House and have shown that the Hat got it right for sure with your sorting. Three points to Hufflepuff. That is certainly true and working together to solve problems is often a wonderful strategy. And in the future, we  _ will  _ definitely utilize it. However, for today everyone is working alone. You can’t assume that in life you will always have someone else there when you are in a troublesome situation. Whether it is that you are legitimately alone or that those you are with are unable to help, due to their incapacitation or lack of ability or knowledge. So, how can you leave here with normal colored skin? Mister Black?”

“We can ask the professor to reverse the spell, since he’s the one who cast it?”

Hadrian smiled. “Cheeky. But again, that is looking to another for the answer or assistance. Let’s put it this way, how would you solve this problem if I sent you to the practical room by yourself and said you can’t come back until the spell is cancelled or class is over? And if you waited until class was over, you would get a zero for the day  _ and  _ keep your colorful hand. Miss Dryden?

“We could use our wand with our non-dominant hand.”

Hadrian nodded. “It is an idea, two points to Ravenclaw, but you have dominant hands for a reason. Very few people are ambidextrous with their wands, even if they are ambidextrous otherwise. And those who  _ are  _ still tend to be much less accurate or powerful with their non-dominant hand when casting. And it takes lots of practice to work at all, except for the very rare few.”

The class looked around at one another and then, as if a switch was thrown, nine hands went up at once. “Mister Peverell, you were the first to raise your hand, albeit by a fraction of a second. What is your answer?”

Severus grinned. “You said people aren’t ambidextrous with their  _ wands _ . But our channels run equally through both hands, so we should wandlessly use the spell with our non-dominant hand.”

Hadrian smiled at the class. “How many of you who raised your hands have a different answer?”

No one raised their hands. “Good. Ten points to Ravenclaw and two points to everyone else who had their hand up with the same answer. Because Mister Peverell was correct. You can use wandless Magic equally with either hand. Don’t get caught in the trap of wands being a crutch. I have seen all of you use spells from primary without wands. You didn’t have wands until a month or two ago. Don’t blind yourselves to the truth. Wands are a tool, helpful but  _ they _ are not where the magic comes from.  _ You _ are. The wand is made from magical  _ materials, _ but it isn’t magic.  _ You _ are magic. Use the spell and cancel the color. Go.”

Within thirty seconds every student had succeeded in doing the spell and were back to normal. “Well done. One point to everyone for belief in yourself and your magic. This class will be split between theory and practical. Some days will be entirely theory, some days entirely practical, and some days, like today, a mixture of both. 

“You will have an essay due every week, to be handed in during your first class with me that week. The topic and length will always be on the chalkboard to the left of my desk for the first ten and last five minutes of class. 

“Regarding length, and I am primarily looking at you Ravenclaws, although it holds true for everyone - when I say I want twelve inches, I mean I want  _ twelve inches _ . It isn’t an optional number. Twelve is not fifteen, is not nine, and is  _ certainly  _ not twenty-four. I will give you a half-inch leeway either direction as long as you don’t use the leeway every essay. 

“Plan your essays as you’ve been taught. Write them with the tools you’ve been taught to use. And that includes handwriting size. If you turn in an essay with handwriting that is an inch large  _ or  _ so small and cramped I need a magnifying spell to read it - or anything along those lines you will get a failing grade on it. I don’t care if it is the most erudite paper since the Founders. It will receive a Troll grade. You do not have an essay due for this first week but read the first two chapters of your textbook before our next class, which is Monday morning. Class dismissed.”

The class exited chattering excitedly about the lesson and Severus waited until they all left before approaching his father.

“How was your first day?”

“Not too bad, I guess. It is different.”

Hadrian nodded. “But not bad?”

Severus shook his head. “Not so far. But I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Come to my quarters for lunch on Saturday?”

Severus smiled and nodded. “Sounds great. I have to go. I have homework to do but –"

“Saturday.”

“Saturday.”

***

Harry opened his door and his son entered, giving him a hug. “I’ve missed you. It is weird. We’ve only been here for a few days and I see you every day, but I’m so used to spending time with you when I want, and now I can’t.”

Harry placed his arm around his son’s shoulders and guided him to the sofa. They sat down and Severus laid his head on Harry’s shoulder. “You can always see me if you need to. Even if only due to homesickness. I’d rather not get accused of giving you special privileges, but as long as you don’t skip class or break curfew - or rather, don't get  _ caught  _ breaking curfew ,because if you have a bad night or nightmare, you can come to me if you want. But if you make it obvious that you are using this privilege too much, the other students will be jealous. They don’t have the option to see family during the school year - even those with family in the village - unless they are third years or above and coordinate a visit to meet up during Hogsmeade weekends. So, it is a balancing act. You can come visit as much as you need or want to, just be subtle about it as much as you can.”

Severus nodded against his shoulder. “Alright. I get it. Would I be this bad if you weren’t here? If I was a normal student who could only use owl post or holidays to see you? Or is it that I can literally  _ see _ you but not  _ see _ you at the same time? Did that make sense, Dad?”

Harry nodded and ran his fingers through Severus’ hair. “It was a bit convoluted but yes, it made perfect sense. And the answer is I don’t know for sure, but it is likely you would have a generous degree of homesickness. You don’t like change, little prince. And you still have worries about losing the life we’ve built as a family. That’s a legacy the Snapes left in you - a fear of abandonment to a degree. Over the years you’ve come to trust that I would not willingly leave you, but you know that life isn’t fair or all unicorns and fairies. So, I think that if I weren’t here teaching, you’d probably be a bit worse off in some ways, better in others. My presence is helping because I am here, but it isn’t helping because it is a big change in how we interact, at least in public. But it isn’t horrific because you are used to having to treat me as a teacher from my guest lecturing.”

Severus sighed. “Okay. I just - things are hard. I’ve only had two days of classes so far and they’re fine. I still haven’t had History or Transfiguration or Astronomy at all. And we haven’t had too much homework. But the dorm! I don’t like people in my space and there’s five of us in my dorm room. And I don’t get to see my friends who aren’t in Ravenclaw very much outside of classes I might have with them.”

“Sometimes friendships drift apart. But if you want to keep them, any kind of relationship requires work to remain healthy, Severus. Whether it is familial, romantic, or platonic. You have Lily with you in Ravenclaw, and you have the opportunity to make new friendships with your roommates and year mates. Don’t squander what could be a lifelong friendship because you dislike the idea that it is different. Just remember, when you first started primary, you hated having to be around kids all day instead of having a personal tutor. But then you met Lily, Jack, Pralina, and Fredicus and became friends. Be open to that happening again. Don’t shut yourself off due to fear.”

Severus slid his arm around his father's waist and squeezed. “I’ll try.”

**Chapter 11**

It was Sunday, and Severus was spending the day with his old friends and others, doing homework and exploring the castle and grounds. As Harry had no essays or tests to grade as of yet - there had only been two days of classes, none of which had repeated, and the previous disgraced professor had not set summer homework - he decided to do some ‘exploring’ of his own. He knew the school quite well from his own attendance days, but the inhabitants were not as familiar.

The exploration, done under Death’s Invisibility No-Longer-Cloak, would serve multiple purposes. It would allow him to work on his version of the Marauder’s Map, it would allow him to find an out-of-the-way but accessible spot to place the cleansed diadem under runic wards, it would allow him to search for magic tied to the Defense Curse, and it would let him watch and listen to the students and adults without being seen. As much as possible, he wanted to avoid the maxim that he had learned in muggle primary - the act of observation automatically changes what is being observed.

Harry began his wanderings in the first-floor main courtyard. It was a lovely day and many people were scattered around the grounds. Harry listened in on the conversations occurring among the groups in nearby and found them very tame and innocuous - what happened over summer, schoolwork, giggling over boys or girls, playing games, Quidditch. The most interesting thing he heard was three fifth years talking about his Defense lesson the previous day. It was flattering and made him happy that he was already reaching students who hadn’t known him before with his ideas on magic, but it wasn’t important overall.

He moved his wanderings further from the building and came across four first years from Slytherin being confronted by two sixth years. The older students were lecturing the younger about proper friendships and throwing around pureblood supremacy rhetoric. The younger four rolled their eyes and the smallest one said, “Magic is magic. Blood politics are stupid.”

One of the sixth years pulled his wand and pointed it at the child. “Listen here, you filthy little half-blood, your father is a disgrace to wizarding kind and should have been killed before he sullied his ancient bloodline with your whore of a mother’s filthy blood.”

The first year sneered, held his empty hand out, screwed his face up in concentration, and found his hand full of the wand that had been pointing at him a second before. He dropped it behind him on the ground. “Magic is magic, dumbass, inbred idiot.”

The four first years began walking away and the other sixth year tried to curse them from behind. Showing excellent situational awareness, the eleven-year-olds dodged and spun around. All three waved their hands at the older students and dirt flew up from the ground and pelted them, leaving their faces and the arms and hands they put up to protect themselves badly scratched. 

“Your pure blood is just the same as anyone else’s when it pours out of your body. My father is brilliant, and my mother has more power in her pinky then you do in your whole body. Magic is magic, everyone’s blood is red.”

The sixth years gaped at the first years as they walked off, this time unattacked. Harry grinned and listened to the two sixth years grumble and start to plan a retaliation when a fellow sixth year approached. It was Randolphus Gramm, the older brother of two of Harry’s students from primary. He was the sixth-year male prefect for Slytherin and came from an old pureblood line.

“I warned you, Flint. I used to parrot thoughts like yours, too, and when my little brother came home two years ago asking if he could visit one of his friends who lived in the muggle world, my father began spouting off those same phrases about mudbloods and filth and no son of his would be a blood traitor. He cursed my little brother with a pain curse and when he let up, my eight-year-old little brother deliberately raised his hand, screamed out “Rise!” and sent my father hurtling up at the ceiling of our entrance hall twenty-five feet up. The impact broke my father’s back, two bones in his left arm, and both legs. After he was healed at Saint Mungo’s, the aurors arrested him for child abuse and my little brother taught me the lessons he was learning about magic at primary. 

“Magic is magic. It responds to our will. Accidental magic is misnamed. Spells are shortcuts. Pretty much every kid who has been to primary doesn’t need a wand, doesn’t need to know a spell, they can control pure magic with their wills alone. And I know several older kids with siblings in primary, like me, have learned to do it, too. I admit, I’m not as good but I have to get over my mental blocks about wandless magic being too hard and such. But times are changing. I warned you both. And Humboldt, five points from Slytherin for trying to curse a first year from behind.”

Harry smiled as the two Slytherins scurried back to the castle. It was slow going but this was proof that it was working. Tom Riddle would find it increasingly difficult to find recruits among the youth at Hogwarts.

Harry continued on wandering further out from the castle and came across a familiar spot, both for his own time at Hogwarts, and in the memories he received from Severus. It was a tree, the tree Harry was under in his first year when he figured out Hagrid getting a dragon’s egg was odd, the tree Severus went to study under after his OWL exam that cost him his friendship with Lily. And once again Severus was under this tree, book out. However, Harry saw that the differences were strong. Lily sat next to him, leaning against his right side and Jack was up against Severus’ left side while Pralina was sprawled across their laps, her head tucked against Lily’s stomach, her book balanced on Lily’s raised outer knee. It warmed Harry’s heart to see the four of them, missing only Fredicus to complete the picture.

As Harry lost himself in reminiscing, he missed the trouble approaching from the castle until it crossed his line of sight. James Potter, Harry’s future father, swaggered up to the relaxing group. Harry knew that James had been called on the carpet several times in primary over his attitude and bullying tendencies. He had calmed down in his final year and Harry had hoped it would continue. But it didn’t appear that his hopes would be realized. 

Harry suspected that James felt that in a new environment he could be the king again as he was at home. The Gryffindor boy was brash, loud, and spoiled beyond belief by his elderly parents. James was, as Lily had put it in Harry’s past future, an arrogant toerag.

“Hey, Evans!”

Lily rolled her eyes as she looked up from her book. “What do you want, Potter?”

“You and Herrington should be hanging out with me and my mates, not these losers. You’re too pretty to be around greasy gits like them. Come hang with us.  _ You  _ can put your head in  _ my  _ lap.”

“Severus, Jack, and Pralina are my friends, and  _ you’re _ the one who’s a git, Potter. Get lost and stay that way.”

“You’ll regret not hanging out with me, Evans. I’m way better than Snivellus or Puffy-boy.”

Jack snorted. “Snivellus? Puffy-boy? Is that the best you can come up with? Guess we know why  _ you _ aren’t in Ravenclaw, Potter.”

Severus arched an eyebrow at the Gryffindor. “Indeed. Snivellus implies a crybaby or perhaps someone with allergies or who has an odor. I barely know you, and you have certainly never seen me cry. I rarely even get a cold, so I don’t sniffle from runny noses, and I am very hygienic. Not sure you can say the same. I can smell the onions you had at lunch from here.”

Pralina looked over the top of her book, lounging on her friends. “And Puffy-boy, okay, lame. Yes, Jack is in Hufflepuff, but so are dozens of other guys. And Jack is like, really thin, so you can’t say it is tying his House to his looks and him being overweight or having a round face, ‘cause he doesn’t. You’re just a fool and a wannabe bully, so listen to Lily and get lost, Potter. No one here wants your attention.”

James growled and spun on his heel, “You’ll be sorry for this!”

Harry bit his lip and watched as the boy stormed off, debating if he should follow but deciding to stay with his son. 

“What an arse,” mumbled Lily. 

Jack nodded. “I don’t get his issue. He’s so arrogant but he didn’t do great in Charms on Friday.”

Pralina sighed. “I met him before, at some pureblood parties when I was little, before primary, when my parents made me go so I could socialize with other kids. He’s  _ always  _ been a bully. His parents spoil him and give him whatever he wants. My mother says it’s because it took them a really long time to be able to have a kid and they probably can’t have any more. And when they try to deny him, I saw him, he like fake cried and threw a wobbly right there in the ballroom. I mean, he was like seven or eight, and I felt embarrassed just  _ seeing  _ it. But his parents completely caved, and he got what he wanted.”

Severus leaned back further against the tree. “I’m surprised primary didn’t stop that kind of behavior. I mean, our teachers wouldn’t have stood for it.”

Pralina shifted so she was sitting up facing her friends. “They probably did but if his parents didn’t enforce it at home? He leaves those teachers and comes here where, to be honest, there is a  _ lot  _ of freedom. Even for you, Sev, and your dad is a professor here. And Potter likely assumed he could act like at home and everyone would fall in line.”

Lily face-palmed. “Hopefully he got the message. But somehow, I doubt it. He doesn’t strike me as the type to let things go, especially if he’s as spoiled as you say.”

Severus shrugged. “Time will tell. Let’s not waste any more time talking about him. It just feeds his arrogance to get our attention.”

The others nodded, looking thoughtful before resettling in and reading their books.

Harry continued his wandering and hoped that James would let it go, but suspecting that his own suspicions and Lily’s were correct. In the original timeline, James Potter had been a spoiled, selfish prat until late in his sixth year or early in his seventh. 

Harry still couldn’t fathom how he was made Head Boy with Lily as Head Girl. James had been smart, but he was a troublemaker who constantly got detention and lost points. And he hadn’t even had the experience of being a prefect to mold him into a leadership role. The Gryffindor male prefect from their year had been Remus. 

And that showed how much Harry was successfully changing things. Remus was cured of his disease and in Ravenclaw, Sirius was a Hufflepuff, and Peter, the other Marauder-who-would-have-been, the only other boy from their original timeline who was a Gryffindor was now in Slytherin. 

James wasn’t alone in his dorm room, though. Primary had caused the expansion of students able and willing to attend Hogwarts, rather than being homeschooled or sent abroad and rather than only four boys in the 1971 incoming first years Gryffindor dorm, there were seven of them, only one who was sorted that way in the unaltered timeline, and three who had been in other Houses. The remaining three had not attended Hogwarts then but now they did. Harry’s planning was working, and it made him happy, even as he worried over James’ future.

**Chapter 12**

Harry made a habit of his invisible wandering over the next two weeks, doing it mostly on the weekends, but also watching over the castle and its inhabitants during the week when he had time. Exactly two weeks after watching James Potter get turned down by Lily and verbally smacked down by Severus and his friends, the group was once again out on the grounds, though in a different spot. And the composition of the group was a bit different. 

Harry had decided to work on eroding House barriers and prejudices by assigning group projects “randomly” in all of his classes. He planned to change the groups every two months. Some of the groupings  _ were _ mostly random, only rigged so that no group had members only from a single House. But some of the groups were  _ very  _ deliberate on Harry’s part, whether in who  _ was _ in a group or who  _ wasn’t _ in the same grouping. 

James Potter and Peter Pettigrew were  _ not _ in the same group though they shared a DADA class and Harry planned to make sure they never were. Even though Peter was changing through Harry’s direct and indirect machinations, Harry had no desire for his father to become friends with him. He just couldn’t chance it. There was too much bitterness there on his part regarding Peter’s actions in Harry’s own childhood - Godric’s Hollow, Sirius, Cedric - to be fair to him. He wouldn’t kill him or even sabotage the boy's life, but he wouldn’t put James in the possible line of fire, either.

One of those deliberate groups that  _ were _ together was Severus’ group. It was made up of Severus, Lily, and Remus Lupin from Ravenclaw and Sirius Black from Hufflepuff. They had been meeting for the past week in various places while they planned their project and, consequently, got to know one another. Because a group of four eleven-year-olds without direct supervision wouldn’t spend  _ all _ of their time doing schoolwork, even if three of them were in the House of Wit and Learning.

This day found the four on the edge of a courtyard where there was a grouping of stone benches. Harry had passed them half an hour before and they had been working on their project and chatting about life, laughing and joking around. Nothing harmful seemed to be in the works and it was fairly straightforward, so he had moved on. But now, he was running back, visible to all, as he had seen a determined James Potter mounting a broom he shouldn’t have had as a first year, aiming it towards Severus’ group and pulling on an invisibility cloak. 

Now, this cloak was once known as Death’s Cloak but when Harry, Master of Death, had arrived in the past, it became a regular, though powerful, invisibility cloak. It would begin to lose its powers over the course of James’ lifetime - assuming Harry was successful in prolonging that lifetime to a wizard’s normal lifespan and not have it cut short at twenty-one.

Harry was a fast runner but he couldn’t keep up with James on a broom and arrived too late to stop the Gryffindor’s “prank”. From a distance, he saw an arm appear about fifteen feet above the group with an extra large potions vial in its hand. He watched as the hand poured the vial out over the boys in the group before vanishing beneath the cloak once more.

By the time Harry was on scene, the three boys were screaming in pain as the improperly brewed potion ate through their clothes and began burning their skin. He wandlessly cast three quick stasis charms on the boys, keeping the potion from doing further damage until they could be treated, and a Patronus messenger spell. Harry then raised his hand into the air and called out, “Accio invisibility cloak!”

Two seconds later, a shocked James Potter was revealed hovering over the scene twenty feet up on a broom. Hadrian motioned for him to land. The boy scowled but obeyed the professor. 

As he landed, Poppy Pomfrey, the school nurse hurried over, having been summoned by Harry’s patronus. She began to treat the three boys as Lily stood next to them, crying and shaking.

Minerva McGonagall soon followed in the path of the running healer, knowing from years of experience that such a sight meant very bad things. 

Hadrian held James Potter’s cloak in one hand and his broom in the other. James had his arms crossed over his chest and was pouting and trying to justify his actions. “It was just a prank, bit of a laugh. They’re just a bunch of pansies, screaming ‘cause their clothes went invisible.”

Hadrian narrowed his eyes. “They were screaming before they were in stasis because the potion you poured on them was acidic and didn’t not make their clothes invisible, it ate through them and then began to burn their skin. If I hadn’t been here, the potion would have burned holes in their skin and likely their organs after that. You would be guilty of murder, Mister Potter, not just the torture you have inflicted.”

James gaped at him. “No way! The potion recipe said it turned cloth transparent. You’re lying! When I tell my parents about this, you’ll get fired!”

Hadrian sneered at James. “Oh, your parents will certainly be hearing about this, Mister Potter. And I certainly won’t be fired but  _ you  _ will be lucky to not be  _ expelled _ .”

***

Three days later, a meeting took place regarding the attack. Although Dumbledore had wanted it to be in his office, there were simply too many people involved for it to work logistically. James Potter, his parents Euphemia and Fleamont Potter, Severus, Harry, Remus Lupin, his father Lyall Lupin, Sirius Black, his father Orion Black, Lily Evans, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, and Madam Poppy Pomfrey were in a conference room on the first floor. 

James had spent the last two days in detention when he wasn’t in class, at meals, or asleep while Severus, Remus, and Sirius were healed of their traumatic injuries. When informed of the prank, as he called it, Dumbledore had attempted to brush it off as childish playfulness and simply take points from James. 

Hadrian had then informed him that if he did not deal with this child sociopath, the aurors would be brought in. As a lord and parent of a minor who was severely injured, he could do much more than that and the headmaster knew it. But Harry knew the old man still hoped to make it all a minor matter and be seen as James’ rescuer by the child. 

Harry planned to thwart him. James Potter would grow up and learn to be a decent human being or Harry would be forced to take drastic measures. There were many on the table thanks to his position - both in the wizarding world and metaphysically as the Master of Death. He didn’t want to get the latter involved but to protect Severus, he would. James Potter would learn the line between pranking and bullying, between being an entitled, spoiled brat and a productive member of society, between a potential murderer or rapist and someone who understood consent of all kinds and the meaning of the word “no”.

Professor Dumbledore opened the meeting, “It is so good to see you all here, back at Hogwarts. Though this matter is really such a minor thing, I apologize for the inconvenience of your coming. Young James - such a bright young wizard, so talented - pulled a prank and people have overreacted to it, I’m afraid.”

Hadrian stood up. “I’m going to interrupt this nonsensical monologue, Headmaster. You are not going to ignore this or downplay the severity of what occurred. For those of you who do not know me, I am Lord Hadrian Peverell and began as the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts on September 1. I witnessed the event in question and my son, Severus, was one of those injured by Mister Potter.”

Orion Black leaned forward. “I do not understand what happened. I got a letter from Headmaster Dumbledore stating that my presence was requested due to a problem with Sirius and a prank. I was under the impression that Sirius had done something. Was he working with Mister Potter?”

Hadrian scowled at the twinkling eyed headmaster. “No. I cannot believe the depths this once great school has sunk to.” He turned to Orion and Lyall. “Were neither of you informed that your sons nearly died two days ago?”

The men gasped. Orion shook his head, “No! What do you mean? Did they do something dangerous?”

“Two days ago, your sons, Sirius and Remus, my son Severus, and their friend and classmate Lily Evans, were working together and talking on the grounds. I was walking around the grounds getting some fresh air after I finished grading and I witnessed James Potter mount a broom, which as a first year he shouldn’t have, and cover himself with an invisibility cloak, which as a  _ student  _ he shouldn’t have. I hurried after him as he flew off, catching glimpses of the broom’s bristles or a foot every so often. When he was above the group contains our children, I saw his hand come out from under the cloak and pour a potion onto the three boys. Within seconds, they were screaming and as I arrived and cast stasis charms on them, I heard Mister Potter chuckling from above me. I summoned his cloak and made him land. Madam Pomfrey can give you the specifics of their injuries.”

Poppy nodded as the men looked to her. “The potion poured on the boys acted as an acid, essentially. It ate through the fabric of their clothes, vanishing them, and proceeded to eat through the first few layers of skin beneath the clothes, vanishing  _ them  _ as it went. If Professor Peverell had not cast the stasis charm and halted the progression of the potion, by the time I arrived it would have burned off and vanished sixty percent of their skin, many of their muscles, and would have reached their ribs, lungs, and hearts. They would have died shortly thereafter, in agonizing pain, as they would have been beyond even magical medical help. As it is, many of the portions of their skin that were affected have permanent scars, the potion acting like a Black Arts Curse. Fortunately, I suppose, Mister Potter has a decent aim and poured on their bodies, not their heads or faces.”

Lyall Lupin turned to his son and pulled him into a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Remus sniffled. “I didn’t have a chance. We just got out of the hospital wing two hours ago and none of us could hold a quill until this morning.” He held up his hands and showed the scarring, deep lines along the palm and lighter lines along the fingers.

Hadrian sat down. “By the time I cast, they were all trying to wipe the potion off with their hands. It is only the fact that Miss Evans was on the other side of the stone bench that stopped her from having the same issue.”

James piped up. “I wasn’t aiming for Evans. I wasn’t pranking her, just the losers she hangs out with.”

Hadrian sneered at the boy. “I meant that she, too, would have been trying to wipe off the potion from her friends and have gotten it on her hands.”

Fleamont looked at James with horror. “You admit you did this, James? You almost killed these other boys, your classmates?”

“It was a  _ prank _ . Snivellus probably had something on his robes, potions or something that changed it. It’s his fault. I  _ warned _ him to leave Evans alone.”

Professor McGonagall sat forward. “You warned who, Mister Potter? And when was this?”

James pointed at Severus. “Snivellus. Saw you cry  _ now _ , didn’t I,  _ Snivellus _ ? And his other friends, the ‘Puff and the snake. I told them a couple of weeks ago, when I asked Evans to ditch them and hang with me and my mates. Though I was willing to let the snake hang out with us, too, until she was a bitch to me. But they weren’t there this time. Instead it was these other losers. I don’t really know them, but I figured the prank would be a warning to them to leave Evans alone.”

Lily smacked the table, “I told you then that I didn’t want anything to do with you, Potter! You’re a bully and a creep! And a murderer!”

James leered at Lily, an odd look on his young face. “I like you, Evans. You’ve got spunk. You’ll learn I’m the best in this school. You’ll be begging me to take you.”

Lily scowled. “Not even under Amortentia.”

Albus tried to intervene. “Now, now. We can see Mister Potter didn’t me anything bad by it, he was just trying to get Miss Evans attention. Boys will be boys, and Miss Evans is quite attractive. I’m sure Mister Potter isn’t the only one who will want her attention.”

Hadrian tilted his head and looked at the old man askance. “Are you blaming Miss Evans for the fact that Mister Potter nearly murdered her friends? Are you implying that she should have given in to his blandishments because - what - he wanted her? How often do you condone non-consensual actions and behaviors? Headmaster?”

Albus spluttered. “W-what? No, of course not. I simply meant that Mister Potter is young and hormonal. All boys go through that phase.”

Hadrian shook his head. “No, Headmaster. All boys may go through puberty, but they don’t all stalk girls, threaten their friends, and attack others to get a girl to like them.”

Albus subsided as Hadrian continued, “I would like to know several things from Mister Potter. First, how did you bring a broom to school? Second, where did you get an invisibility cloak? Third, you keep claiming the potion was a prank one, who gave it to you and told you that?”

James sat back with his arms crossed. “The broom is mine and I’m a great flyer, and the rule about no brooms is stupid and for muggleborns and poor kids who can’t afford a broom to fly on. So my dad shrunk it and put it in a password protected hidden space in my trunk. The cloak is a family heirloom and I wanted it so I could prank people and get around the professors and stuff and go where I wanted to. Dad let me bring it. And no one  _ gave _ me the potion. I brewed it. It was Gratley’s Trans Vanish potion. It should have made their clothes transparent.”

Orion and Euphemia gasped. Hadrian sighed. “That isn’t what that potion does, Mister Potter. Where did you get the recipe? I know it wouldn’t be in any student potions books. And the ingredients? Several of them are restricted.”

James rolled his eyes. “I used my cloak to go into the Restricted Section of the library. And Mom sent me the ingredients when I asked her for them.”

Hadrian turned to Euphemia. “One hopes that you didn’t ask why he wanted those ingredients, Lady Potter. Then again, that would mean you didn’t even ask your eleven-year-old son why he would need Class Two and Class Four Restricted potions ingredients. I’m not sure which is worse parenting. The potion didn’t do what it was supposed to do, either what Mister Potter believed it was meant to nor thankfully what it was actually meant to. Which isn’t surprising. It is a complex brew to make, and he is a first-year student. It is surprising that the mistakes he made during the brewing didn’t kill him, but only made the potion  _ less _ lethal to others.”

Euphemia looked away. “I didn’t ask. I didn’t even think to ask why he wanted them. He - we - we spoil him. I know that. It took so long to have a child, we indulged him, and we know he’s gotten a bit out of hand, but –” 

“A bit!” Orion yelled, his arm around Sirius. “He was so jealous of a girl he barely knows that he nearly killed my son for doing a school project with her!”

“She’s mine.” James smiled. “The moment I saw her, I felt it. She belongs to me. She doesn’t belong to Snivellus. Just me. I haven’t gotten to spend as much time with her as I want because she was sorted wrong. Headmaster Dumbledore told me he thinks there’s something wrong with the Sorting Hat but that he can have her re-sorted next year into Gryffindor to be with me.” He looked at Lily. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it, the tingle, the pull in your magic?”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “I control my magic, it doesn’t control me. If I felt something, it wouldn’t mean anything. You’re insane and evil and black as the bottom of a mine. I want nothing to do with you and I have no desire for a re-sort. Ravenclaw is great for me and I don’t care what the headmaster of the school says. If I ask for or agree to a re-sort, I want to be checked for potions and spells because that’s the only way it would happen. I swear!”

A bright blue light glowed around Lily for five seconds before disappearing. The adults in the room nodded and smiled, except for Dumbledore whose only outer change was a dimming of his twinkle.

“What was that?” Remus asked.

Hadrian smiled. “Magic heard Lily’s promise and felt her utter sincerity. It took it as a vow. The light was Magic’s acceptance of her vow of truth.”

Albus waved his hands and smiled. “Yes, yes, very impressive. Foolish but very powerful light show, my dear girl. Girls change their minds all the time at your age and I’m sure you’ll realize James just wanted your attention. His magic is telling him that you belong to him. And as a muggleborn you may not realize enough to understand what you magic is telling you.”

Lily sneered. “I may be only eleven, and I may be muggleborn, but as I said,  _ I  _ control my magic _ ,  _ it _ doesn’t  _ control _ me! _ ”

Hadrian nodded. “Well put, Miss Evans.”

Albus humphed into his beard. “Well, Mister Potter is a pureblood and is used to listening to his magic, so—"

Hadrian interrupted. “What he is used to is getting whatever he wants. If he feels it should be his, then in his mind, it is. Whether or not his magic is responding to Miss Evans in some way, doesn’t justify his frankly illegal behaviors. By all rights, he should be expelled, his wand snapped, but I know you would find some way around that, Headmaster. However, I will not let this be, and I suspect neither will Mister Black and Mister Lupin.”

Hadrian turned to Minerva. “I suggest that Mister Potter’s punishments be taken one at a time and served consecutively. First, for smuggling a broom into school and using it, second for the possession and use of the invisibility cloak, third for the breaking into the Restricted Section, fourth the brewing of an illicit potion, fifth the attack on the three boys which resulted in potentially fatal injuries, and sixth the unapologetic bullying he has conducted in this room to Severus and the harassment of Miss Evans.”

Minerva nodded. “I agree. First of all, the broom and cloak will be confiscated. You will get them back at the end of the school year. I won’t send them home now with your parents as they’ve demonstrated that they can’t be trusted not to assist you in smuggling them back in to the school. Professor Flitwick will examine your trunk’s special compartment and remove the hidden features in some way.”

Albus shook his head. “He’s just a boy, Minerva, youthful hijinks.”

Hadrian snorted. “He’s a budding sadistic psychopath. He claims he was trying to make their clothes transparent. And yet when the potion obviously failed and they were screaming in pain, he was laughing. Laughing! He didn’t try to help, he didn’t even fly away from the scene of his crime to escape detection. He sat on his broom under his cloak and laughed at their agony. And even now, he finds it amusing and taunts my son over his tears. Stop trying to lessen this, Albus, or I  _ will _ escalate it over your head.”

Minerva nodded. “Very well. First, for the smuggling and use of smuggled items, 150 points from Gryffindor. For the stealing of a restricted book, 50 points from Gryffindor. For the bullying and harassment even in front of professors and other adults, 30 points from Gryffindor. 

“The remaining is too large a problem for simply points. Every Saturday and Sunday afternoon from now until the end of the school year, Mister Potter will have detention, he will be on probation and any further detentions he receives will be tallied. If it is more than one  _ rightfully deserved  _ detention a month, he will be expelled and not welcome to return to this school for his second year. The same if he loses more than twenty points a month, average. 

“Also, Mister Potter will pay to replace the ruined clothing. I can’t tell you how to parent, Lord Potter, Lady Potter, but if you wish to visit your son in Azkaban before he is even of age, keep up with what you’ve been doing. I am frankly ashamed Mister Potter is in my House.”

Minerva turned to face James. “You will leave Miss Evans and any of her friends alone unless they approach you. I will inform your professors that you are to be seated away from any of them in your shared classes.”

Hadrian leaned forward. “And don’t try to get your little sycophants to do it in your place. The first time one of them harasses someone, I will make sure their parents know what happened here. And I think Minerva should make an announcement of the reason for the point loss in the Great Hall at dinner tonight to avoid gossip getting things wrong. And to avoid Mister Potter - or anyone else,” his eyes flicked to the headmaster, “trying to spin the story to put him in the right and the others in the wrong.”

Minerva nodded. “Agreed.”

**Chapter 13**

It was mid-October and Harry was meeting Orion Black at the Three Broomsticks for a discussion of Sirius. Normally, Harry met with parents in his office or a school meeting room but considering Dumbledore’s current feelings towards anyone involved in the James Potter “prank” incident, the change of venue was necessary. 

Harry arrived fifteen minutes early and approached Rosmerta, so much younger but still just as gorgeous as when Harry first met her. He had long suspected that she had some type of creature blood in her close ancestry - veela, siren, fae. It would explain how the unprepared young men from Hogwarts always were caught in her web. It wasn’t as strong as Fleur Delacour’s allure would be, but it was something.

“Good evening, fair Rosmerta.”

The bartender smiled at him. “Lord Peverell! They don’t need you patrolling the halls tonight?”

Harry smiled. “No, though duty still calls. I’m meeting a parent of one of my students this evening. I hoped to be able to rent one of your fine rooms and have refreshments sent up, nothing too heavy.”

Rosmerta smiled. “Of course, here’s the key to Room 3. It’s at the back so the noise from the bar shouldn’t bother your meeting. I’ll send up some appetizers, a sampler, and drinks once the parent arrives. Who should I be looking out for?”

“Mister Orion Black. Ask him what he prefers to drink before you send him up, I’ll just have two butter beers. He should get here within the next ten minutes or so.”

“Sure thing, Lord Peverell. Just drop the key off when you’re done with the room. I hope his son isn’t in trouble?”

Harry shook his head. “No. There were some problems with another student who was bullying others, and Sirius was one of his victims. I believe Orion wants to talk and make sure Sirius is coping well in aftermath.”

Rosmerta looked sad. “Of course. The poor boy. And after everything he’s been through with his mother in jail for what she did to him, poor little boy. I hear about such terrible bullying when the kids are in here for their weekend trips. I don’t know why it is allowed. I think it leads to Dark things after they leave school.”

Rosmerta leaned close across the bar, lowering her voice. “Did you hear about the attacks on the Lansorius family and the Broadbeams? Some horrible people in white masks and black cloaks attacked them, cursed them bad. Only three survived from the Lansorius, though one was cursed so badly he’s probably never leaving Saint Mungo’s. And only one survived at the Broadbeams, a little girl, four years old. The family house elf hid her. And before they left each place, they put this mark in the sky, a snake and a skull. Horrible things. Just terrible. I don’t know what the world is coming to. I just don’t.”

Rosmerta stood back up straight. “Well, listen to me rambling on. You go along, I’ll bring the food up after Mister Black arrives.”

Harry nodded and made his way upstairs. The Death Eaters has begun their terror tactics. Both families were Light, historically. And strongly opposed the pureblood political agenda that Tom favored. They were coming out of the darkness, away from the random worrisome attacks on muggles and muggleborns, moving into the wizarding world proper. 

It was actually late from what Harry knew of the previous time. These attacks had occurred in 1970 and marked the true beginning of the Blood War for most of England. But from how Rosmerta talked, they had only just now happened. And it was late 1971. Ripples from his arrival and the moves he had made in the political and educational spheres, Harry supposed.

Harry entered the room and waved his hand, shrinking the bed and placing it in the closet and transfiguring two arm chairs and a table between them near the fireplace which he lit. He cast wards on the room, anti-spying, anti-scrying, silencing, privacy, anti-animagus - keeping Rita in mind, though  _ she  _ was too young, it didn’t negate someone else with a similar gift. 

Harry finished his last ward and three minutes later the proximity alert sounded, and Orion Black entered the room, followed by Rosmerta with a tray of finger foods and the requested drinks - two bottles of butterbeer for Harry and a large ale for Orion. She placed the tray, featherlight, on the little table and closed the door as she left. Orion sat and picked up his ale, looking at the bottles with a raised eyebrow.

“Simple taste when I’m not looking to really drink, that’s me. Just because you grow up, doesn’t mean it doesn’t taste just as good. And it won’t get me drunk. I  _ am  _ due back at the castle in a few hours, and I dislike the aftertaste of sobering potions.”

Orion grinned. “Understood, I hate the nasty things, too. I think they taste that way on purpose to punish you for overindulging.”

“Likely.”

Orion took a sip of his ale. “How is Sirius doing? Has he fully recovered? I know Madam Pomfrey says he has other than the scars but, he’s stubborn, my son. If he was still having problems, I think he wouldn’t want to bother anyone.”

Hadrian nodded. “I understand. I’ve got one with those tendencies myself. Sirius is as physically healed as he can be. The scars may fade a bit over time, or they may not. Curse scars are…odd. And these were made by an incorrectly brewed potion, at that, so there’s no telling other than time. 

“But he has been diligent about using his skin cream on them. It loosens the skin so it has nearly its normal elasticity, and the scars don’t impact as much on things like wand or quill grip. The nerves, however, well, Madam Pomfrey worked diligently with a healer from Saint Mungo’s on all of the boys to keep the worst of the problems to the palm rather than the fingers. There is slight loss in the fingers but mostly along the finger and not at the tips. The palm, all around the scars is numb, the further from the scar itself, the more feeling.”

Orion closed his eyes and his grip on his glass tightened. “And all that boy gets is point losses and detention.”

Hadrian smirked. “Dumbledore would not have allowed harsher punishment. I think Minerva was amazed that he didn’t protest more than he did. But she isn’t used to a parent with more power than Dumbledore being onsite. He understood that if he had gotten his way completely, I would have summoned the aurors and had Potter arrested. I truly considered it anyway. But putting him in front of the Wizengamot, and him saying he felt drawn by his magic, and Lily being a muggleborn and James an heir to a powerful family, it could have gone either way. And if they had let him off without even a slap on the wrist, the precedent would have been horrendous. 

“But trust me, I have plans for young Potter. Many of his detentions will be far beyond unpleasant. I wanted to curse that boy, but he is just that - a boy, a child, only eleven. His parents did him no favors growing up. Indeed, in a way their lack of boundaries and discipline was a type of abuse. I’m not Dumbledore with his second chances and third and fourth and fifth for all - if they are of use to him in some way. But I have faith that it is possible for a child to grow into a better person if given the opportunity, reason, and a suitable shake to their world view.”

Orion sighed. “I know. I just - Sirius has already been through so much, and I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t help him. Walburga is an evil bitch, and thanks to family magic and the marriage vows - it is hard to know he was hurt again, and I can’t do anything.”

Hadrian drank deeply of his butterbeer. “I do understand in a way. My son, Severus, is blood adopted. My family magic drew me to him when I arrived back in the United Kingdom. He was a little boy and his parents, they hurt him so much. But he is doing so much better, just through knowing he has my support. I’m sure Sirius is the same. You are working to make up for what happened when he was young, and I could see how much he loves you.”

Orion swallowed. “Thank you.”

Hadrian nodded. “There is one thing. I have a type of mage sight. And I have noticed that Sirius, when he casts magic or draws it in, he has a - I suppose the best word would be a shadow on his magic, his core.”

“Is it from the potion? Do the other boys have it?”

Hadrian shook his head. “No. I first noticed it in our first Defense class, which was well before the attack. Well, that is to say, I first recognized it at Hogwarts then. The thing is, I also noticed it in both Sirius and Regulus when I guest-lectured in their primary. I thought it might have to do with your ex-wife and her actions and would heal over time. But it is still there in Sirius and - I wouldn’t reveal this except for the fact that you are Heir to Lord Black. I have another member of your family in my seventh year NEWT class - Narcissa Black - and she, too, has a shadow on her core and her magic as she casts. I have a theory, but I would like to test it to an extent. Would you be willing to cast a spell so I could See? Just an incendio or aguamenti, perhaps. But magic leaving your body, not just a lumos?”

Orion stared into the distance for a few moments before he nodded and drew his wand. He took an empty bowl from the tray on the table and pointed his wand at it. “Aguamenti!” The bowl slowly filled with water until it neared the rim and Orion ended the spell, and sliding his wand away, he glanced at Hadrian.

Hadrian met Orion’s questioning gaze and nodded. “I see the shadow in your magic, as well. I’ve heard - gossip, tales, what have you that floated through the wizarding world after your ex-wife was arrested and jailed. Rumors of a curse on your family.”

Orion’s lips twisted. “The Black Madness.”

“That’s what they called it, yes. I think what I can See is that curse. It is more than just a quirk of your line. It is a curse or a poison within the family Magic Well. Otherwise it wouldn’t affect Narcissa, as well as you and your sons. I strongly feel that if I saw any Black family member who is still connected to the Family Well cast magic, I would See the shadow. I urge you to talk to your father, Lord Black, at Yule and contact the goblins for use of ritual space and have a coven cleanse as many of your family as possible. The more that are ritually cleansed, the more likely the cleansing will reach the Well.”

“Fuck. I just thought - fuck. How long has this been, how many generations have been under a curse?”

“I can’t know for sure but as it impacts Narcissa’s branch, it is further back then her father and yours. A hundred years? Two? When did your family members start to slip from Grey or Dark to True  _ Black _ Magic practices? When were the first indications of the Black Madness? That would indicate near the correct time. It could have taken affect immediately or it may have needed a generation or several to build up, gradually spreading to each family member.”

“The goblins?”

Hadrian nodded. “They have the best and cleanest ritual cleansing spaces. If you don’t have a trusted conclave, I offer mine to cleanse your family. Your patriarch can contact me if he feels the need.”

Orion nodded and drank gulps of his ale. “Thank you, Lord Peverell. You may have saved my entire family.”

“Hadrian. Just Hadrian.”

“Thank you, Hadrian.”

**Chapter 14**

It was a month until the end of year exams and seeds planted by his classes over the year and even from years before with the younger students who attended primary were bearing more fruit. Lucius Malfoy made an appointment to discuss things with Hadrian. They met after class hours in Harry’s office.

“Have a seat Mister Malfoy. What can I do for you today? I know you don’t need tutoring assistance.”

Lucius sat, his back straight, his chin up. “No, Professor. I believe I will do quite well on my NEWT exam. I wanted to talk to you about some things you brought up in class over the year. I am a pureblood, Heir Malfoy, and I was raised to believe things about purebloods and muggleborns and half-breeds and creatures. I am superior to them, I am more powerful, I am more important. My father believes these things, my mother, my family for generations. And coming to Hogwarts, being around others not of pureblood extraction, barring some anomalies, a rare few outliers, nothing changed my opinions. Not then.

“But, in the last few years, the climate of the school has changed. Traditional ways that the Houses have interacted and socialized or more often  _ not _ socialized, have morphed. I didn’t really notice at first, and when I did, I simply passed it off as childhood friendships which would fade over the years and pressures of different Houses. But they didn't. The first class of students who had the opportunity to attend wizarding primary school was less concerned with House affiliation, they were more open, smarter it seemed, and more powerful - pureblood, half-blood or muggleborn. I’ve tried to ignore it, to fit it into my world view but after being in your class - I think I began to understand.

“All year, you’ve been teaching us what we need to pass our exam. You’ve made it clear when a topic or spell or theory was the Ministry approved response to something. But you went further, you showed us more about magic, about the truth of what it is, about what we are in relation to it. You’ve demonstrated the laws of magic are not immutable. We control our magic, we  _ are  _ our magic. Wands are a tool not a crutch. Every member of our Defense class has cast at least a half dozen spells wandlessly. I know you know that.”

Hadrian smiled. “Yes, Mister Malfoy. Magic is a living force, but we do not need to be helpless before it. We work with it, we live it, we immerse ourselves in it and we benefit in many ways.”

Lucius nodded. “Yes. I understand. I’ve seen you in the Great Hall in the morning sometimes, at breakfast. I know you get the Daily Prophet. I’m sure you’ve read about these attacks that have been happening to muggles and muggleborns and blood traitor purebloods.”

Hadrian inclined his head. “Yes. I’ve read about them, Mister Malfoy, and the mark they leave behind, the snake and the skull. And the increasing violence level, the hidden faces except one. The one calling himself a lord and his minions. The papers have taken to calling them Death Eaters.”

Lucius bit his lip briefly before recovering his mask of stoicism. “I said earlier that my father is very entrenched in the pureblood ideology. The…Death Eaters and their leader, they attack using that as a standard. I will be graduating in less than two months. My father wishes me to join this ‘rebellion’ group once I have done so.”

Hadrian cocked his head. “And  _ you _ , Lucius? Do you wish to join this Dark Lord and be a minion?”

Lucius shook his head. “No. The man is powerful, I don’t deny that. He is captivating and his rhetoric is compelling. Four years ago, even three years ago, possibly even  _ last  _ year, I would have had no hesitation. But what he offers is not something I want now. It isn’t something I need now. But –"

Hadrian sat forward. “But?”

Lucius looked down. “If I return home, I will not likely have a choice. My father will force me to submit to the Dark Lord, one way or another. He will threaten Narcissa, use her against me in some way, or possibly take my choice away entirely.”

“The Imperius?”

Lucius inclined his head once.

“What do you want from me, Lucius? Why did you come to  _ me _ ?”

“I don’t know what to do. I know you helped Narcissa and her family. It was too late for some of them but so many it helped. I can’t - I won’t go to Dumbledore. I don’t trust him. He’s too powerful but pretends that he isn’t. Just a harmless, old schoolteacher. But I trust you. My magic says I can trust you.”

“I believe I can come up with something, Lucius. Keep you and Narcissa safe and out of the clutches of a madman.”

“Thank you, Professor Peverell.”

“It is my pleasure to help you. Tell me, does your father know the Dark Lord, personally?” Hadrian held up his hand palm out. “I’m not asking if he is one of those raiders, those so-called Death Eaters. But has he personally met the man?”

Lucius nodded. “Yes. He has known him for decades. They went to school together. He evidently tried to get what he wanted politically first but –"

“Yes, he went more than a bit mad. Do you know his name, Lucius?”

Lucius’ eyes darted around. “Yes. But Father says the Dark Lord is working on a charm that will know when it is spoken and be able to track it, even through wards. Father says I should only call him the Dark Lord.”

Hadrian chuckled. “Yes, he is trying to get his name so feared that people will only use labels for him, instead. But I meant his birth name. Your father went to school with the man and his self-styled moniker isn’t what they called him in class.”

Lucius shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I never even wondered.”

“Well, I’ve done some research into various archives and papers and such. I find it - interesting that your father is so willing to bind you - and possibly has bound himself to this man, when your father believes so ardently in blood politics. Because the so-called Dark Lord  _ isn’t _ a pureblood. My sources say he isn’t even truly a half-blood by some measures. My source told me that his mother was a squib, essentially, and his father was a muggle that she love-potioned into marriage. According to my source, he was born and grew up in a muggle orphanage when his father abandoned his pregnant mother after she stopped the potions, and she died in childbirth. So, the pureblood ‘revolution’ is being led by someone who is somewhere between half-blood and muggleborn. And muggle raised, as well. Ironic. And yet, if the violence continues to escalate, my source, who had proof of these claims, plans to release them to the public, to try to blunt his recruitment efforts.”

Lucius gaped. “I - My father must know at least some of that, if it is true. I can’t - I don’t - Merlin! And muggle raised?”

“Yes. It should give him a unique insight into muggles and their capabilities that few wizards have. If he hasn’t gone too mad to see it and use it. I have tried to help my classes with that.”

“Yes. I still can’t comprehend how advanced they have become. They truly have been to the surface of the moon? And their weapons, the new clear ones, they have hundreds?”

“Yes, they’ve been to the moon and back several times, now, with more missions planned. And their nuclear bombs could wipe London off the map entirely with one hit. Two of the largest muggle nations - the United States of America and the Soviet Union, which is Russia plus a number of other nations which they conquered more or less - are in the midst for what they call a Cold War, which is mostly spying and skirmishes in other countries. Because they know if they fight directly and use those weapons, then both of their countries and most of the world will be destroyed.”

“And if they knew about us? If we were exposed because of the attacks?”

“They would kill us all.”

 

**Chapter 15**

The third year of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts had just wrapped up less than a week ago and Harry was exhausted. But he had a job that he needed to do, so he was in Diagon Alley outside Gringotts under Death’s Invisibility No-Longer-Cloak. 

Harry truly enjoyed teaching and was glad the curse had been so easy to nullify. It did reinforce his belief that the Dumbledore of Harry’s time had deliberately left the curse in place in order to manipulate the position. Though a case  _ could _ be made for the fact that by then it had been around so long it was more deeply entrenched in the magic of the castle wards, while Harry had caught it early, just a few years after it was cast. But that case was valid only if you believed Dumbledore didn’t realize he was losing his professors every year to a curse rather than bad luck for over a decade. Harry didn’t find that idea credible. The first few years, perhaps, but not long enough for the curse to get too entrenched to be easily removed - ten years. 

Harry had spent the last two years spreading his messages about the advances of the muggle world and its dangers, as well as magic and the connection witches and wizards had to it. The majority of the school now regularly performed wandless magic, in class and out. 

The Ministry, or more specifically, certain members of the Wizengamot, had tried to get it declared illegal and Dark to perform any spell beyond those taught in first year wandlessly, especially as it was nearly impossible to track with the Trace. It didn’t even come close to passing and the Minister had berated them harshly for the attempt, considering the increasingly violent war going on. There had been over a dozen cases of families with children who had been underestimated and wandlessly defended their homes from Death Eater attacks.

In response to the failure of these raids and the failure to stop it in the political realm, Tom had increased the ferocity of his raids, sending larger groups and accompanying them personally more often. The press and the public had begun using the monikers You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named due to the Taboo on his nom de plume, Lord Voldemort. The Taboo wasn’t as robust as during the Second Blood War when he had control of the Ministry and all of their resources, but it worked often enough to terrify the majority of the wizarding world.

Seemingly in response to this new trend, Tom’s true name and background were released to the public just two months before. Harry loved that particular move of his, as the phrasing and cadence of the press statement by the ‘anonymous source’ was pure Dumbledore. And based on the response, Tom certainly believed the old man to be the one to reveal him.

Harry had spent portions of his summers when Severus was visiting his various friends - the once dour man had become a bit of a social butterfly after starting Hogwarts and his friend group had grown considerably after the potion attack - searching where he could for the diary and the cup. 

Lucius was never given the diary to keep safe as Harry had kept his word and the young man was able to escape being marked. The day before Lucius graduated Hogwarts, Harry had taken him on as an apprentice. Lucius spun it to his father as learning ancient magic from The Peverell rather than just being a body and a wand on raids. And he couldn’t be marked as the apprentice bond wouldn’t allow it.

Lord Abraxas Malfoy and Tom both bought the tale and Lucius and Narcissa married that summer. By the fall, they were out of the country, presumably at a Peverell home learning ancient magic.

A week ago, Harry had asked Lucius to send a seemingly rare artifact to his sister-in-law Bellatrix, in the hopes she would place it in her vault. It was rare - or it appeared so - but it wasn’t something that Tom would care about, being exceptionally Light in nature. Harry also hoped that fact would lead Bella to her vault rather than displaying it.

Thus, his current status as unbreakably invisible outside the bank. He’d been waiting over three hours when his hopes paid off. Bellatrix Lestrange - a marked Death Eater though no one in the DMLE knew it - came striding through the bricks from the Leaky Cauldron. She made her way to the bank and Harry followed her inside undetected - and without needing to resort to confundus charms or the Imperius Curse.

As they entered the tunnels, Harry made sure it was a two-row cart that came along the tracks. Bellatrix and her goblin escort sat in the front and Harry slid into the rear. He enjoyed the ride much more than he had the first time he approached the Lestrange vault with Hermione polyjuiced as Bella and Ron transfigured to look Bulgarian. The goblin used the clankers to scare the dragon guarding the vault and the witch entered with Harry on her heels, unseen. 

Once out of sight of the goblin escort, Harry cast a charm to slow Bellatrix’s movements down while changing her perception of time so that it didn’t appear odd to her. Once she was slowly making her way to an alcove in the vault, Harry began looking around for the cup or the diary or as unlikely as it seemed, both of them. Tom did have fewer followers, let alone trusted ones, this time around at this point as several had refused like Lucius and others had left and run after his true history was discovered.

The unlikely option didn’t occur and after five minutes, Harry found only Helga Hufflepuff’s cup on a shelf. He could feel the soul fragment within it and removed it as he had the others he had found and cleansed. While he wanted to arrange for it to be found, like he had Ravenclaw’s Diadem - not that anyone had done so yet - he couldn’t chance her noticing its absence at any point before Tom was taken out for good. 

Harry made his way to Bellatrix, who was only beginning to reach into her bag for the artifact when he found her and removed the time spells. Within three minutes, they were leaving the vault, having spent less than ten inside. And Tom was down to a single horcrux - his adolescent diary.

**Chapter 16**

Orion Black poured out two tumblers of fire whiskey and walked over to Hadrian, handing him one. Orion sat down next to Hadrian on the long sofa and leaned back against the arm, sipping his drink. The two men were in Orion’s private lounge in his wing of Castle Black. He and his sons had moved from London not long after Walburga’s arrest to escape the memories and associations of the House. Orion’s father, Lord Arcturus Black, had welcomed them in and allowed them privacy to an extent. 

Sirius, Severus, Jack, Fredicus, and Remus were one floor below them, the location of Sirius’ bedroom and playroom - updated to be suitable for just turned teenagers. Regulus was currently visiting one of his friends because he didn’t want to be around his older brother when he was joking around with his older friends.

“How is the summer going so far, Hadrian?” 

“Fairly well. I’ve accomplished some of what I have been trying to get done since I arrived in the United Kingdom, so I am feeling pretty good about life and how it is progressing. And I’m not due at Hogwarts for any meetings for another three weeks, I finalized and submitted my lesson plans and book lists back in June. I am just enjoying the lazy days of summer, as one should when they spend some ten or so months a year surrounded by children and teenagers at a boarding school that doesn’t have an adequate number of adults per child. Severus and I have been on the island for the most part, he enjoys spending time with just us as father and son when we aren’t at school.”

Orion nodded. “He still finds it hard to strike a balance between professor and father?”

Hadrian shrugged as he sipped his drink. “Not exactly. But at Hogwarts he doesn’t feel it appropriate to come visiting to me too much. Severus has a good heart and he doesn’t want to rub it in his friends’ faces that his family is there when they hardly get to see their own.”

“Ah. So, even when you’ve been off, you’ve been spending time with a teenager.”

Hadrian huffed a laugh. “I suppose so. But it isn’t like Severus is clingy. This is far from the first time this summer he’s been visiting friends. He’s even been over here a few times. And he’s had friends over to the island, and when that happens, I am to make myself scarce, mostly. He’s not a little child anymore.”

Orion smiled wryly. “I know the feeling. With both Sirius and Regulus off to Hogwarts for most of the year - I was at loose ends until my father turned over some of the Black interests to me. But I at least get plenty of adult company. I can’t imagine you socialize much at that school. I can’t see you being chummy with McGonagall or Dumbledore.”

“I socialize a bit, in the teachers’ lounge and such. And Filius Flitwick, we duel and talk about magic and spells.”

Orion placed his drink on the side table. “Hmmm. Sounds fascinating. Not what I meant though, Hadrian.”

Hadrian smirked. “I know. Feeling frisky this evening, Orion?”

Orion nodded. “You knew what I was going for when I poured your drink and you took it. You accepted. Are you being a tease, Hadrian?”

Hadrian shook his head. “Maybe I was just in the mood for something harder than I’m used to.”

Orion leaned forward and took the glass from his friend. “Exactly.”

Orion pulled Hadrian’s head close and their lips met, not quite frantically but decidedly firm and assured. Lips and tongues dancing against one another before Orion broke off and pulled Hadrian to his feet, leading him to the bedroom door.

Harry had known exactly what was going to happen before he left his house. It wasn’t the first time he and Orion had spent time in bed together. 

They didn’t have some epic romance. It wasn’t ‘twoo luv’. They were two friends with issues who were compatible sexually. Orion was more than a little gun shy on the relationship front after the whole mess with his cousin, and wife, Walburga. These days the man could be described in the future muggle terminology of demisexual and aromantic. He needed some type of emotional connection - like a deep friendship - to be attracted to someone but had no interest in romance and love.

Harry himself had realized several years before he began teaching that due to his status as Master of Death and his trust issues from his first life, he was firmly aromantic.  _ Not  _ asexual. Harry enjoyed sex a good bit but had absolutely zero interest in a relationship or dating or, Merlin forbid, marriage. Several of his friends over the years had become friends with benefits. None of them expected monogamy from the other, just a good time, stress relief, getting off, knocking boots. Bluntly, Harry had two or three fuck buddies he could see when he wished. And currently, Orion was one of his most hot and heavy.

Once inside the bedroom, Harry wandlessly cast privacy charms on the doors and silencing charms on the room. If the kids needed them, the elves would be able to inform them. 

Orion slowly stripped out of his clothes, each piece a show. “Who’s teasing now, Orion?”

The older man grinned. “Just making sure you’re getting the full experience, Hadrian darling.” 

The strip tease completed, Orion lounged on the bed with an eyebrow raised. Hadrian knew exactly what he was asking and took him up on the challenge. He wouldn’t be outdone by his lover, Gryffindor forward. He waved a hand, and music with a heavy beat and deep bass filled the air. Hadrian began to dance, moving closer to the bed then backing off, his hips swaying and his hands caressing his body as he slowly removed each layer of clothing. His suit coat thrown across the room, landing draped artistically across the arm of a chair, his waistcoat slowly unbuttoned then shimmied out of joining the coat. His hands slowly worked each button on his shirt, gradually exposing his muscular chest. He turned his back and looked over his shoulder at Orion as he slid the shirt down his back and off, floating it to the chair. 

Hadrian slowed down the stripping, allowing the music to inform his dance as he teased his friend and lover. He ran his hands over his chest, tweaking his nipples, then down to his waist and over his clothed legs and crotch. After several minutes he finally unhooked his trousers and slid them down his legs, again turning his back as his ass wiggled to get them off rather than pushing with his hands. 

Hadrian took three steps forward and wandlessly banished the rest of his clothing, licking his lips as Orion’s heavy-lidded gaze met his. The older man groaned. “You make me feel like such a dirty old man, Hadrian.”

Hadrian smiled and climbed onto the bed, crawling up it from the foot and kissing and biting Orion’s skin as he did. When he reached the midway point, Hadrian licked around Orion’s balls and sucked them into his mouth. Orion fell back against the headboard, his hands clenched and unclenched. Hadrian smiled around his full mouth and began lightly sucking until Orion grabbed his head and pulled at his hair. Hadrian moved his attention to Orion’s cock, licking up, mouthing the tip then licking down the other side. When Orion’s entire cock was wet, Hadrian took a deep breath and with one hand wrapped around the base, took Orion’s length into his mouth, sliding it deeper, angling it until the tip was at the back of his mouth and then he swallowed, taking it into his throat.

Orion gasped and groaned, his hands grabbing Hadrian’s hair and pulling. Hadrian backed off and Orion pulled his head close again. Harry wandlessly cast a charm to fully relax his throat and to allow breathing through his nose even when his throat was full of Orion’s cock. Orion bucked his hips up from the bed and fucked Hadrian’s face, using his grip on Hadrian’s hair to adjust the pace. Hadrian closed his eyes and placed his hands on the bed on either side of Orion’s hips for leverage. His lips and tongue working on the cock in his mouth and his throat swallowing around it. Finally, with a loud yell, Orion came, and Hadrian swallowed before backing off and licking his lips.

Orion blinked up at him, “Merlin, your mouth is lethal. The French have it right, the little death.”

Hadrian smiled down at his lover, amused by Orion’s pillow talk. After a few minutes both men caught their second wind and Orion shifted downward to lay more prone on the bed. He spread his legs and lifted his hips. Hadrian cast a spell to prepare him and another to slick his fingers up. He slid them into the loosened hole and slowly massaged the inside until Orion gasped and his spent cock jerked. Hadrian manually spread him and teased his prostate until the other man was once again hard. 

Hadrian slicked his cock and lined himself up, loving the limberness of his older friend. He slid inside and began to fuck his friend, leaning down to kiss him. Orion grasped Hadrian’s biceps and Hadrian changed his angle until he was hitting Orion’s prostate on nearly every inward stroke. Hadrian took his time, wanting Orion to come again and knowing it would be a little while. Hadrian’s stamina held out easily, as his powerful magic obeyed his will. Finally, Orion began pushing up, his feet against the bed and Hadrian's angle was forced to go deeper and with three more strokes, Orion came on their chests and Hadrian followed directly after.

Hadrian collapsed on top of Orion, kissing him deeply and gently, a thank you and expression of their love for one another. The two men snuggled together on the bed, Hadrian spooning against the back of Orion as they drifted to sleep.

**Chapter 17**

Harry approached the Riddle House from the rear. He entered through a door on the opposite side of the building from the caretaker's cottage and cast spells to hide signs of his presence from anyone, muggle or wizard, who was outside of the building. Considering that his casting of Homenum Revelio came back as empty, that meant it hid him from everyone.

It was mid-April 1978 and Harry had lately begun to feel heavily the pressure of time on his back. Severus and his year mates would be graduating Hogwarts in less than two months and Trelawney’s prophecy would be uttered sometime between mid-summer of 1979 and spring of 1980. 

If Harry had not managed to end things by then, it would get much more complex, as technically, he no longer fit the criteria. His body, though greatly resembling his original, was not birthed in late July 1980, as the seventh month died.

Tom had increased his level of violence and large raids were occurring once a month, while small attacks varied from four or five a week to every other week depending on who was attacked and the time of year.

Dumbledore had formed the Order of the Phoenix and fought to protect some targets but as before, it was heavily ineffective as few of the members were good fighters and those that were had been hamstrung by Dumbledore’s insistence on non-lethal casting. 

Harry had to admit though, some of the members ignored his strictures if the odds were bad enough against them. This had led to some Death Eater fatalities that did not occur in the original timeline. 

Three Order members had been ambushed by over a dozen Death Eaters in mid-March when they were trying to assist Minerva’s brother in setting up wards around his home.  In the original timeline, Robert MacGonagall had been killed, as had two of the Order members. This time, those Order members used harsher spells against their attackers and incapacitated six of them, and two succumbed to their wounds and died before they could escape. Robert and the Order members survived but Augustus Rookwood and Abraxas Malfoy didn’t.

Tom was so enraged by these deaths - his insider in the Department of Mysteries and a major financial backer - that he organized a daytime raid on Diagon Alley that had not occurred in Harry’s history. Nearly thirty Death Eaters and Tom himself had begun near Saint Mungo’s Diagon entrance and continued towards the Ministry. Dozens of people were killed and even more maimed or injured. 

One of the dead was a young mother just leaving the hospital to go home with her newborn twins. Molly Weasley died under spells cast by Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. According to reports, rather than attempt to draw her wand, she turned her back and hunched over to protect the babies in her arms, taking the spells herself to keep them from dying. Harry couldn’t deny that Molly always  _ did  _ love her children, even if she was overbearing. Upon seeing his wife fall, Arthur Weasley, normally mild-mannered, had lost his mind and dueled the Lestrange couple both at once. His emotional casting actually succeeded - just as Molly’s once had against Bellatrix in the future - and he scored fatal hits on both of them within seconds of one another.

Arthur was injured in his fight which had lasted nearly ten minutes and when taken to be healed, the reasoning for his extreme reaction was discovered. Molly Weasley had been potioning him with love potions and obedience potions since he was a teenager. After a full purge and healing, Arthur was able to go home to his five sons. Ron and Ginny would never be born in this timeline. Harry found it karmic revenge that he had no direct and barely an indirect hand in.

Assuming Harry’s baby self was born, he would never have to worry about the plots that killed him the first time around. And Harry was working to make sure that his parents wouldn’t have a reason to be targeted in the first place.

James Potter never formed a group like the Marauders this time around. He lost many of the more sycophantic groupies due to his punishments in his first year. 

Eventually, Harry had gradually broken though the boy’s arrogance and entitlement through creative detentions and frankly some mild post-hypnotic type suggestions that he implanted through subliminal messaging within music that he played during those detentions. They weren’t anything evil or even things that would impact him harshly. But they made him stop and think more, they made him less hot headed, a bit more empathetic. 

Frankly, Harry viewed it as therapy to deal with the boy’s sociopathic, leaning towards psychopathic at times, tendencies. It didn’t force him, it wasn’t mind control, it was just nudges. Some people would still feel it was a horrific thing to do but Harry felt no remorse. 

James Potter nearly killed three children when he was eleven years old because he was jealous. And he found pleasure, sadistic amusement, in their pain. By the time he was a third year, James had mellowed and begun focusing on himself as a decent human being. And Harry had removed the spells and suggestions. 

At the beginning of fourth year, under nothing but the urges of his own growing maturity, James had approached Severus, Sirius, and Remus and apologized sincerely for his attack on them. They weren’t friends but the boys, showing their own maturity, had forgiven him. 

During fifth year, James had approached Lily and Severus with an idea for a project that could potentially heal the remaining scars left by the potion. With Severus’ potion skills, James’ transfiguration knowledge, and Lily’s expertise in charms, assisted by Remus and Sirius on the research front, Remus cross-referencing and Sirius providing access to the Black library, they successfully completed James’ idea at the end of their sixth year. 

The scars were gone, those from the potion attack and for Remus, even the left-over scars from his time as a werewolf. Severus even used it on the remaining scars that Tobias’ beatings combined with Eileen’s potions had cursed him with. The nerves had regenerated, and the skin was normal. 

Over the summer, Lily had gone to see James several times and, she told her friends, she had admitted that her magic  _ had  _ always been pulling towards him. And now that he seemed to be a good man, she was willing to see why. They had begun dating in late August and her friends had given him a shovel talk when their seventh year had begun. So, the birth of Harry James Potter was certainly possible as Harry could see the soulmate bond between Lily and James as it solidified.

Which led to his time crunch and visit to Riddle Manor. He was still trying to find Tom’s diary horcrux. He had searched here before, six years before, but it hadn’t been present. But a recent throwaway comment by Orion had started a train of thought that had culminated in Harry dwelling on the muggle axiom, ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.’

In his original timeline, Tom hadn’t hidden a horcrux in his late father's house. The diary had been given to Lucius Malfoy to keep safe behind his manor wards. But Lucius had escaped being marked this time and with his father’s recent death, Tom had lost any chance of coercing the new Lord Malfoy. Lucius, no longer his apprentice for two years though still a world traveler, had allowed Harry to access his manor when his father died. Harry had checked to see if Tom had given Abraxas the diary. He hadn’t. He may have given it to someone else but so many who had been marked in Harry’s past, had refused one way or another in this present. Tom was unlikely to have a trusted follower to give such a responsibility to, now that Bellatrix had died.

So, Harry had decided, with the muggle axiom running constantly through his mind, even into his dreams, to try Riddle Manor again. He searched the decaying structure for over two hours before entering the dining room. And after he left, Harry smacked himself up the head repeatedly, metaphorically speaking, for not beginning there, rather than working from the top down. It was the room where Tom Riddle, Senior and his parents were found dead, after all. The place where Tom overcame his muggle heritage by murdering it in cold blood and framing his maternal uncle for the crime.

The diary was in a drawer in the sideboard behind wards that dampened its magical signature. The compulsion to write in it was strong but nothing Harry wasn’t able to overcome. He used his power to remove the soul piece from the little black book and put everything back as he had found it.

**Chapter 18**

Harry sat at the Head Table, on the right end, furthest seat from Dumbledore’s throne-like chair. He served himself toast and buttered it, placing it on his plate before tapping it with his finger in a specific pattern. This prearranged signal to the kitchen house elves caused his sunny side up eggs to land on top of each slice of toast, exactly as he liked it. 

The students didn’t get such special treatment, it would be too difficult for the elves, so they scooped from bowls of scrambled eggs or platters of poached eggs or took soft boiled eggs in egg cups.

Harry added two slices of bacon and a sausage link and took a little plate and put some fried, shredded potatoes on it. It was a good-sized breakfast and Harry only ate this way on the weekends. Weekdays he generally had oatmeal or cereal and fruit.

Filius finished dishing up his own breakfast and poured out his tea. “Last Hogsmeade trip of the year, Hadrian. Are you on duty this weekend?”

Hadrian nodded. “Yes. I have chaperone duty in the village. You?”

Filius snorted. “Second trip in a row that Minerva assigned me to stay in the castle to supervise.”

Hadrian nodded as he took a bite of sausage. While teachers were permitted to go to Hogsmeade any time they didn’t have other duties, most took advantage of the specific weekends when the students third year and up were permitted to go. 

It seemed an odd choice to want to go during such a crowded time, but the majority of the shops in Hogsmeade had odd hours. Most of their business - bar a few like the pubs - came from those weekends. Most wizarding folk who didn’t live in or near Hogsmeade went to Diagon Alley and its surrounds to do their major shopping. As a result, stores in Hogsmeade were only open a few days a week and only during the middle of the day or by appointment, right after the dinner hour to accommodate Hogsmeade residents who worked elsewhere. The rest of the time, they simply had owl orders that they processed.

This oddness led to professors and staff taking advantage of the full open days that Hogwarts’ weekend trips created. However, students still needed a level of supervision in the village and the Deputy Headmistress created a patrol schedule for the teachers for the year. Three teachers on Saturday and three on Sunday were assigned to patrol the village while the students were there. They didn’t have to walk a beat like a bobbie, but they needed to be seen and available at all times. 

Other professors were assigned the duty to be available within the school for the first and second years and any older years that didn’t go to the village or who returned early. This meant, of course, that they couldn’t take advantage of the stores for that Hogsmeade weekend as they were to remain in the castle both days. Oddly enough, Minerva never took that duty and only took Hogsmeade duty on certain trips, never the trip just before Yule nor the last trip of the school year. It paid to be the one making the schedule.

Hadrian finished up his breakfast as the majority of the students were coming in and said his goodbyes to Filius. “Good luck with the little ‘uns, Filius.”

“Ah. They’ve been through this eight times, or sixteen for the second years. They know how it goes by now. Can you stop by the bookstore and pick me up a copy of Dueling Tournaments 1978, Europe? I think it is Volume 264. It comes out today and they always refuse to owl them, even just up to the castle.”

Hadrian nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll pick it up first thing, so I don’t forget.”

“Thanks. Good luck with the hormonal teens. Last Hogsmeade weekend, three weeks and two days until exams, they’ll be losing their minds.”

Hadrian grinned wryly. “Thanks for that.”

Hadrian left the Great Hall and made his way to the staff lounge where he and the other two teachers on duty - Septima Vector and Silvanus Kettleburn - would use the floo to go to the Hogsmeade train station. They used this method so that they arrived in the village before the first carriage full of students. The carriages let off at the station, so they were there to greet them and make sure they knew who was on duty.

A few hours later, Harry wandered through the wizarding village, still occasionally expecting things to be there as he remembered from his teen years even though he had been teaching at Hogwarts for seven years now. Some of the stores might eventually appear as their owners created them but one major point of interest for the village would never be there this time around. 

Harry’s circuit of the area took him past the field where the Shrieking Shack would have stood for the last eight years if Harry had not cured Remus - and every other werewolf - of their curse. But Remus had been cured when he was eight or so, and thus Dumbledore hadn’t needed to build a secure place for him to transform while he attended Hogwarts. The grounds of Hogwarts were also safer, as the Whomping Willow which had guarded the tunnel to the Shack was not planted either.

As he rounded the curve to head back towards the village and the pub where he was going to grab lunch, he heard the sounds of multiple apparitions ahead of him followed by screams. Harry ran towards the main thoroughfare of the village and saw over thirty Death Eaters firing curses into the students and village residents as they tried to escape. 

Harry came upon James Potter and Lily Evans dueling three masked opponents while trying to shield seven third years behind them. Harry went invisible and came in behind the masked figures and hit them each with a slumber charm before breaking their wand hands and both legs on each assailant. As they fell, he removed his spell from himself and urged the teens to take the younger students and get into the basement of one of the shops.

“Professor Peverell, thank you,” gasped James. 

“It’s my job to keep you safe. Take the kids and get into a shop. Make sure everyone there, whichever you choose gets into the basement. All of the buildings in Hogsmeade have thick stone walls around their basements. Just make sure everyone is ready with bubblehead charms and water spells in case they set the building on fire. Everyone needs to hunker down, they’ve blocked off the route to the train station and the carriages, trying to get back to school just gives them an easier target.”

Lily nodded. “We understand. We’ll spread the word.”

“Just try to keep everyone as calm as you can and treat any injuries. Good luck.”

James stood straight. “Good luck to you, Professor Peverell.”

Hadrian nodded and resumed his invisibility as he worked his way towards the center of town where most of the Death Eaters and most of the students were clustered. On his way, he took out any cloaked figures he saw in the same manner as he had the first three. 

When he reached the Three Broomsticks, he saw Dumbledore lifting his wand to duel the newly appeared Tom Riddle himself. The old man stood before the pub packed mainly with students and faced the terrorist leader. “You won’t get past me to them, Tom. You’ve gone too far, targeting our world’s future.”

Tom laughed. “You’re a fool, old man. They’re just collateral damage, more or less. You see, I’ve heard these rumors that you’re the only man I fear, and I would never attack your private fiefdom you’ve turned Hogwarts into because of it. I’d say those rumors are wrong, old man. I find you exceedingly annoying, like a fly you can’t seem to swat, but in no way do I fear you.”

“You should, Tom.”

“No, I shouldn’t.” Tom raised his wand and began casting incredibly destructive spells. Dumbledore was matching him but was distracted trying to shield the pub from the misses and unable to move position without leaving it unprotected. 

Harry slid behind the old man as he removed his invisibility. “I’ve got the shield Albus.” Harry knew that ideological differences aside, Albus would trust him to keep innocents safe. 

Albus’ shoulders relaxed a fraction as he moved forward, transfiguring rubble into knives which he banished at Tom. Tom proved his power by stopping all nineteen in mid-air and transfiguring them into flaming arrows which he banished back at Albus. Those which were well-aimed Albus turned to a fire whip which hurtled at Tom. The arrows which went to the sides hit Harry’s shielding and disintegrated, the fire snuffing out.

Tom allowed the flaming whip to begin to wrap around him but before it could contract, he transmuted it to a giant basilisk made of water. He commanded it to attack. Albus superheated the air and the water evaporated but in making the thick fog, he missed the bone breaker that Tom had sent in the snake’s wake. It struck Albus’ left hip.

“You’re old and slow, Dumbledore! I fear nothing!”

Albus groaned but moved forward, all of his weight on his right leg. Harry knew that Tom was correct. Albus wasn’t as powerful as he had been twelve years ago before Harry had arrived. Losing the power boost the Elder Wand had granted the old man, its bearer until the Master of Death had entered this timeline, had greatly damaged Albus’ ability to face Tom one-on-one in this type of duel.

“You may not fear  _ me _ , Tom. But you  _ do  _ fear. No matter what rituals you’ve done to yourself, you’re still human, Tom. I remember you as my student, Tom. How very much you begged to not return to the orphanage in London. To stay away from the German bombs. You feared  _ then _ , Tom. Then and now, you fear the same thing. Death, Tom, the next great adventure comes to all of us.”

“It won’t come for me, old man. I’ve taken steps to assure it. But I’m perfectly happy to send  _ you _ on to your own adventure, here and now,  _ Albus _ . You must tell me how it goes - oh, no, you won’t be able to, I’m immortal, I will never die.”

Tom began casting curses, faster than could be followed. Harry made out several more bone breakers, an organ buster, a withering curse, and a blood freezing curse. Albus was unable to dodge, his broken hip preventing it but he shielded well and cast what he could in between the barrage. 

Finally, Tom seemed to tire of his tactic and cast a spell that couldn’t be blocked by a magical shield, the Killing Curse. Albus was unable to dodge and the block of stone he summoned from a nearby building was moving too slow to intercept when Fawkes flew into the space between the dueling wizards and allowed the green light to strike him, killing him and causing him to burn. 

Tom seemed to anticipate this happening, perhaps a similar event had occurred in a previous meeting between the two wizards, as a second green light had followed close on the first, this one intercepted by the stone Albus had summoned. But Tom had always been smart, and he understood tactics. A third green light left his wand while Albus was still blinded by the dust of the stone and just as the bone breaker had gotten through the foggy steam and hit Albus, so did this curse. The green light struck the man dead center and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore fell to the ground, dead.

Tom threw back his head and laughed, loud and long. His few remaining followers joined in his merriment but it was short lived. Seeing the Headmaster fall triggered several students, mostly Gryffindors but a few from every House, and led by a black-haired Ravenclaw, to attack the cackling terrorists. Within five minutes of Dumbledore’s death, all of the remaining Death Eaters were incapacitated, some dead, some simply unconscious or unable to move or cast for some other reason.

Enraged, Tom turned to strike them down, forgetting about Harry in his anger. Harry made him pay for that distraction, striking him with a bone breaker aimed at his back. It struck true and the terrorist leader fell, unable to feel his legs. Harry approached the downed but still dangerous man, motioning for the students to take over shielding. Harry cast a nonverbal muffling charm as he stood over his fated nemesis.

Tom looked up at him. “Do you want to cry? Did you love him? Your sainted Headmaster.”

Harry laughed. “Hated his guts, Riddle. He was nearly as bad as you at times.”

Tom’s eyes showed his confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to really monologue for you, Riddle. Albus Dumbledore was an ass. You killed him. Hooray for you. Now it’s  _ your  _ turn.”

Tom smiled. “You can kill me but I will return. I am immortal.”

Harry shook his head. “No one is immortal, Riddle. Not even if they had a diary, a ring, a locket, a cup, and a diadem.”

Tom gaped at him in a panic. His left hand grabbed for the inside of his robe and he twisted it. When nothing happened, Tom grabbed for his ear and holding it said, “I will return!”

Harry shook his head. “You put up anti-apparition wards, Riddle. Didn’t you think someone might throw up some anti-portkey wards to keep your little idiots from escaping justice? Your insurance policy is gone, Death comes for all. Goodbye, Tom Marvolo Riddle, enjoy your next adventure.”

Harry raised his wand, the true Elder Wand, and Tom’s rose as well. Tom cried out his go to favorite spell, “Avada Kedavra!” Harry shifted sideways out of the way and cast a simple cutting curse, overpowered, as the green light passed over his shoulder. Tom Riddle’s head parted ways from his body and the Dark Lord lay there dead, no screaming spirit escaping, confirming for Harry that Tom had not suspected the destruction of his horcruxes and he had not made another unknown one.

The students lowered the shields and Severus approached. “Is it over? Did you really kill You-Know-Who?”

Harry nodded. “He’s dead. And you know I hate that hyphenated nonsense. Call him Tom or Riddle. But he’s dead, so call him a corpse.”

The students turned to one another and began hugging each other and crying their relief as people emerged from the nearby buildings, staring at the corpses in the middle of the road. Harry backed away, his arm around his son and cast a shield over the two dead men to prevent tampering until the aurors finally arrived.

Hadrian looked to Madam Rosmerta. “Were the floos blocked?”

She nodded. “But I had a mirror, a communication mirror. Sometimes my patrons get a bit out of hand and I can’t reach the floo. I don’t know what’s taking so long.”

“Riddle put up anti-apparition wards. And I put up anti-portkey ones so they couldn’t escape when injured. Riddle’s would have fallen when he did, so they should be here soon.”

Hadrian looked at the students around him. “We need some runners, lots of the stores and buildings are going to have people hiding in the basements. Some of you need to go door to door and let them know it’s over. And does anyone know Aberforth well?”

The owner of the bookstore stepped forward. “I’ll go. He should hear about his brother from a friend.”

Hadrian nodded. “Exactly what I had in mind. Thank you.”

As the man made his way down the lane, apparition pops sounded from the direction of the train station and distinctive red-robed aurors ran towards the group.

Half an hour later, all but a skeleton crew of the wartime large auror corp was in Hogsmeade or at Hogwarts taking statements from villagers, students, and professors, processing the downed Death Eaters, scanning the scene and checking wands for spells cast, and preparing the bodies of the fallen of both sides for processing by Ministry Healers. 

Most of the statements were relatively short as many had done little more than run and hide. Some had fought off a few Death Eaters or witnessed others doing the same. The longest interviews were those from anyone present in the center of town during the penultimate fights between Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle and then Hadrian and Tom.

Hadrian clearly and carefully told his tale of his trip through the village after hearing the screaming to the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch, Senior. The militant man was surprised but pleased by his tactics in subduing the Death Eaters, not expecting someone considered to be in the Cult of Dumbledore to be so ruthless.

Hadrian shrugged. “The slumber spell won’t end with a typical Renevate, unlike a Stupefy. It is actually a healer’s spell and requires a healer’s wake spell to be lifted, something few if any terrorists would know or even suspect. And if they  _ are _ woken, the anti-portkey ward would keep them from escaping that way just as Riddle’s anti-apparition ward kept villagers from escaping. And few people have the ability to run on two broken legs and few adults can cast with any degree of accuracy with their non-wand hand. I didn’t kill them, therefore they could be healed, interrogated, and put on trial for their crimes. But they weren’t likely to be a problem in the battle again. Headmaster Dumbledore tried his best with his vigilante group - which I knew about but wasn’t a member of, by the way - but I never agreed with his tactics. And just because someone is your boss, doesn’t mean you agree with their every decision, either at work or otherwise.”

Crouch nodded thoughtfully. “I’d ask you to come talk to my aurors but I suspect our problems will die down now. Tell me about the duel between Dumbledore and You-Know-Who.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes. “Honestly? Still? He’s dead. I get operational security and all, but he can’t attack people who use his anagram now and he never could track people who used his real name. Can you imagine sending out squads of goons every time his spell picked up someone using the name Tom while talking? I know a good fifteen Toms off the top of my head, at least eight of them in my classes that I teach at Hogwarts, and another four in classes I guest lecture in at the wizarding primary schools. And Tom runs the Leaky Cauldron, too. The same issue arises when using his real  _ last  _ name. Trying to attack everyone who tells a riddle? The Ravenclaw door knocker would be in trouble as would all sphinxes. As long as you didn’t use both names together to refer to him, there is  _ no way  _ he could have tracked it before today. And his corpse definitely can’t do what his living body could. So if using his made up name bothers you, call him Riddle. Or Tom.”

Crouch’s lips got increasingly thinner and pinched through Hadrian’s speech, but he nodded. “Force of habit.”

“I get it, this war can’t have been easy on your department. I’m just saying, you can break that habit now. It was a bit of an annoyance for me, I didn’t mean to lecture. Hazard of teaching, I suppose.”

Crouch relaxed at the apology. “So, tell me about the duel between Albus and Riddle.”

***

Over an hour later, Crouch released Hadrian to see to his son and other students, but not before mentioning the likelihood of his receiving an Order of Merlin, First Class for his actions.

Hadrian sighed at the thought, and went to see Severus who was waiting for his turn with an auror. “Hey, little prince.”

Hadrian sat next to Severus and leaned against his side. “Dad, are you alright? They aren’t being crazy, right? They aren’t arresting you for killing that monster?”

Hadrian placed his arm around his grown son. “No. Decidedly not. Crouch thinks I’ll be getting an Order of Merlin.”

Severus nodded and laid his head against Hadrian’s. “You deserve it.”

Hadrian snorted. “Whatever. They’ll be ready to question you soon. You’re kind of in a legal grey area. Not your actions today but your legal status. You’re eighteen years old and of age with wand rights but you’re still attending a magical secondary school and haven’t taken your NEWTs. That makes you a minor of sorts. It is different for those few still homeschooled after their mandatory primary education. Once they take their OWLs, they have wand rights at home and once they are seventeen, they are adults across the board with wand rights anywhere. My point is that I can come in with you as your father and guardian until you graduate Hogwarts, if you want me to do so. If you don’t, they don’t require my presence to question you.”

Severus sighed. “I’d like to handle the questioning myself, but I want you in the room.”

“I wouldn’t have interfered and answered for you, Severus. Even if you were still underage, I wouldn’t have done that, and the aurors wouldn’t have let me. But I will certainly be there for you to have moral support from my presence.”

“Thanks Dad.”

Ten minutes later, Crouch called for Severus and Hadrian followed him in, explaining his legal right to be there as long as it was Severus’ wish. Crouch acquiesced and Severus took the seat that Hadrian had occupied for quite a while.

“Tell me what happened today in Hogsmeade, Mister Peverell.”

Severus took a deep breath. “It was the last Hogsmeade weekend of the school year and for me and most of my friends, the last one of our Hogwarts career. The wonder has worn off over the years of visits, but we weren’t going to miss this one. We made a schedule, and some went to various stores. We met up for an early lunch at the Three Broomsticks around eleven because it gets ridiculously crowded and takes quite a while to be served once it is noon. After our meal, several of our group split off to do their own thing, like James and Lily were going to the bookstore and then for a private walk. I think James had a picnic planned for midafternoon. I went to the apothecary to get replacement ingredients for my NEWT practice. Then I was on my way to Honeydukes for some sugar to keep me hyped up while studying. 

“Before I got there, the Death Eaters apparated in and started casting at people. There were so many kids around. I know they aren’t babies, and once upon a time I was that age, but they looked so young and scared. I grabbed as many as I could and pushed them into any open stores. I told them to stay away from windows and the front walls, in case spells brought them down. I found a little girl, a third year Slytherin girl bleeding in an alley between Scrivenshaft’s and Devore’s Swords. She had been hit by a cutting curse, it just missed her jugular vein. I stopped the bleeding and helped her through the alleyway door to Devore’s. 

“By that time, Headmaster Dumbledore and Riddle were dueling. There were a few Death Eaters just standing around and watching, but one was holding a fourth year Gryffindor under the Cruciatus. They were maybe eight feet from Devore’s front door. The boy was screaming, I could see it, but someone had silenced him so I couldn’t hear it. 

“I grabbed a sword from a rack and went back into the street. Dad has trained me in swordcraft since I was a kid. I thought it looked cool, and after my early childhood - before my adoption, I wanted to have more than just my magic to protect me. I’m able to cast with my right and wield a sword with my left. The Death Eater’s back was to me and he wasn’t even really paying attention to the boy he was cursing. He was watching his master duel. I took his head off with the sword. One swing. That was all it took. I remember thinking that Sir Nicholas’ ax must have been  _ seriously  _ dull to have been unable to behead him after nearly fifty hits.

“I dragged the boy inside and turned back around to the street. I saw Dumbledore fall to Riddle’s Killing Curse and when the Death Eaters all just began laughing, so many hurt, dead, and they were amused by it all. I lifted the sword and yelled something, ‘For Hogwarts and Avalon’, I think. And suddenly there was a group of students behind me and we were running into the fray and striking down the Death Eaters, with magic, with swords, with anything we could.

“Then my dad stepped forward to duel Riddle when he was going to attack us. We took over his shielding of the buildings behind him and he took Riddle out when the man tried to cast the Killing Curse on him even though Dad had already paralyzed him from the waist down. It was horrible and I’ll never forget it. I killed today, Director Crouch. At least the one and likely more in that last melee. I’m not even out of Hogwarts yet. My NEWTs are next month, assuming they aren’t postponed. But I was in a battle today.”

Crouch nodded. “You saved lives today, Mister Peverell. Both directly like the little girl in the alley and indirectly by taking out the threats. They wouldn’t have shown you or anyone else any mercy. You did the right thing, but it won’t feel that way for a long time. And that’s a good thing. Killing  _ should  _ bother you. The ones that don’t care or worse, enjoy it,  _ those  _ are the evil ones.  _ You _ , you’re going to have problems sleeping, likely for weeks or even months. Nightmares, dreams, memories. You’ll find yourself being sensitive to your surroundings. You may lash out verbally at friends and loved ones. You may lose your appetite or not feel like getting out of bed. My advice - let the people around you who care about you help you. Many of them will be in similar straits. Help one another, lean on one another and if you need more assistance, ask for help.”

Severus nodded. “Thank you, I will. I - I will.”

**Chapter 19**

Harry entered a ritual room at Gringotts and began tracing out specific runes within the circle on the floor. He was preparing for a ritual that had been over a decade in the making, or if one looked at it another way, centuries in the making. 

Within the hour his personal conclave would arrive and then Severus and his  _ own _ , brand new, personal conclave. Before Harry’s arrival in the past, ritual magic and conclaves had been dying out. They weren’t illegal but they were no longer taught at Hogwarts as they had been until Dumbledore took charge. The most they got was mentions in Arithmancy class, Ancient Runes, and as historic events in History of Magic. Thus, those raised in the muggle world, whether muggleborn or half-blood, knew nothing about them, and then magical raised felt slighted and didn’t share information. And conclaves - or covens for witches - made up of all the same type of people were much weaker than ones with mixtures of pasts, Houses, and core type.

But with the beginning of the wizarding primary system, it no longer depended on Dumbledore’s allowance to teach anything, and the basics of the Magics of rituals led by covens and conclaves were prominently featured in the curriculum. Indeed, the children were taught basic rituals that they could safely do alone or in small groups, usually for the holidays.

And with this instruction of children came a resurgence of magical rituals and reformation of ancient covens and conclaves. Dumbledore tried to stop it with his influence over the teens at Hogwarts, but by the time they reached him, the children were steeped in the tradition. The Wizengamot had slapped the old man down harshly when he had tried to make rituals - even minor personal ones - forbidden at his school. He nearly lost his position over that nonsense before he backed down and allowed rituals. But his attitude and the minimum he gave to those who wanted to do larger rituals that required more space and time, caused most to wait until they left Hogwarts to form or join personal or larger conclaves or covens.

Harry finished drawing the needed runes, information that had come to him with his arrival and ‘memories’ of his past as Hadrian Peverell. Within minutes Orion Black and his cousin Alphard walked into the room and stood against the walls after exchanging nods with Hadrian. They were quickly followed by Lucius Malfoy, Hadrian’s former apprentice, Filius Flitwick, Hadrian’s friend and fellow professor, Jonder Jervin, the former head of the Children’s Welfare Department and current head of the Wizarding Primary School Division, and Reginald Herrington, father of Severus’ classmate Pralina and member of the Wizengamot. They were Hadrian’s personal conclave, finalized as such six years before after the ritual which cleansed the Black Family Magic Well.

The men ringed the room, not knowing exactly why they were here but knowing it would be a joint ritual with a younger personal conclave and trusting Hadrian’s judgment as the leader of their conclave.

Severus entered the ritual space, leading his friends and conclave behind him. The choice of members had been entirely his own and had been debated in Harry’s presence for over a year, though he had never given his opinion to his son, not wanting to sway him. By Severus’ right shoulder was Sirius Black and to his left was Jack Grant. Behind Sirius’ right was Remus Lupin and on Sirius’ left shoulder was Fredicus Yaverian. To Jack’s right shoulder was Xenophilius Lovegood and to his left was James Potter.

Severus led the young men into the room and they spaced themselves between the older men around the walls. Hadrian gazed around and met the eyes of each participant before raising his chin. 

“I welcome you all here today and thank you for your attendance with such minimal information as I provided.” Harry’s eyes met his son’s and he smiled. “Twelve years ago, I came to this place and performed a ritual to take you into my family as blood, though you already held that place in my heart, Severus. Here you became Severus Prince Peverell and left behind who you had been before. During that ritual I was given a vision and instructions by Magic itself and I have spent a dozen years following those instructions to prepare myself, you, and the world for this day. 

“There were conditions that needed to be met in order for this to occur, and they have all been passed. The ritual we will perform today as joint conclaves will be a simple one of magical communion and cleansing. But Magic will reveal its Will as we submerge ourselves in it.”

Severus looked steadily at his father. “These conditions, I presume one was my age?”

Hadrian nodded. “You needed to be of age and an adult in every way, without ambiguity. Meaning out of school, with full wand rights.”

Severus inclined his head. “And I graduated Hogwarts two weeks ago and received my NEWT results yesterday, so that condition is met. I’m going to be a Ravenclaw and deduce something. Was one of the conditions the reason you suddenly became an educational reformer? When I first came to live with you after you rescued me, before the full adoption, I had tutors. I was happy and adjusting and in retrospect, you seemed content with that situation. But shortly after the adoption, you suddenly had this idea for the primary schools and pushed hard to get support and laws for it.”

Hadrian smiled widely. “Ravenclaw intelligence indeed. Yes. The establishment of the primary system wasn’t mandated directly by Magic, but it was the best way forward to meeting the burden of the requirement: bringing Magical connection to the entire wizarding population. Dumbledore was too obstructionist to work differently.”

Severus tilted his head. “He was another condition, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. The two Dark Lords needed to be neutralized in some way before this ritual could occur.”

“Neutralized?”

“I had no plans for Dumbledore’s death. I was working on neutralizing his power in the government and world. It was a slower process than I would have liked but he was losing ground with those in power and starting to be seen as old-fashioned and hidebound by much of the public. Barring any unforeseen issues - which is what happened - I think I would have gotten him out of the way from all of his positions within another decade. 

“Riddle was obvious. He needed to be securely in jail, unable to escape or dead, whether by my hand or someone else’s. I let Dumbledore duel him. I couldn’t have really done more than I did. Riddle would never have dueled me while Dumbledore was capable of facing him. The man was there in order to do so, and put to rest the rumors that he was afraid of Dumbledore. I gave Dumbledore as much help as I could by removing the distraction of shielding the innocents in the building behind him. He would have had no chance at all if I hadn’t done that.”

Severus looked around the circle and many of the men present nodded in agreement. “So, Fate helped with that condition?”

“I suppose you could say that. Fate or chance or simply the confluence of events as the war escalated culminating in the meeting between the heads of both sides.” Harry shrugged. “It doesn’t much matter other than the fact that neither of the Dark Lords, and yes, Dumbledore was a Dark Lord no matter how much he flaunted his Light Lord credentials, neither of them are an issue now. And I spent the last decade ensuring the final condition was met - that Severus be raised happy, healthy, and safe.”

Severus blinked back tears. “You did that, Dad. The best day of my life was the day Tobias hit me in the market. I love you, Dad.”

Harry smiled through his own tears, “I love you, too, Severus.” He turned to the others. “Shall we begin?”

The men, young and older, nodded in unison and paired off based upon position to the cisterns in the alcoves of the room. They removed their robes and stepped into the cleansing waters, allowing the magically purified water to prepare them for the ritual ahead.

Each man emerged from the cisterns and took their places, skyclad, at points in the circle. Hadrian motioned with his head for Severus to take his place opposite Hadrian’s own spot. Once in place, Hadrian began.

“May Magic bless our unified purpose.”

The conclaves chanted as one:  _ Et faciam vos fieri magicis sanos et subicere possis.  _

The runes lit beneath their feet and dim white light bathed them before shifting in shade to match each man’s aura. The light level began to grow, centering on the interior of the ritual circle, and coalesced into a translucent bubble of swirling magic colors. It floated and bobbed as the magic around each man entered it and when the light from each stopped, it began to approach Severus. 

Hadrian was lifted from his feet and drawn to hover before his son in magic. Severus fell to his knees and the bubble dissipated, leaving behind a gleaming crown. Hadrian reached forward and grasped the crown, lowering it to the head of the young man kneeling before him. “In Magic’s will, and in accordance with your own rebirth at a time when you were most needed, I crown you, Severus Prince Peverell, The Once and Future King of the Magical Realm of Avalon and all its peoples. Reborn to us.”

Every man fell to his knees as Severus rose to his feet and a gleaming sword, thought a myth, pulsing with magic, appeared in his hand. Hadrian knelt at his son’s feet and bowed his head. “Your Majesty. What will you?”

Severus blinked three times and looked around the circle. “Rise, my father. Magic tells me you have more to reveal to Us.”

“I do. Magic has shown me the gateway to Avalon, our home, safe from the muggles and their bombs and wars and science.”

“Rise Merlin reborn and show Us and our Knights our new home.”

Hadrian got to his feet. “Not Merlin reborn. At least so far as I’ve been told. You, however, Your Majesty,  _ are  _ Arthur Pendragon reborn. That I was told. Magic led me to you, you’ve always known that, even the Ministry knows that. If you had stayed in the Snape home, brought up by Eileen and Tobias, no wizarding primary just muggle schooling, your heart would have been much darker, much easier to sway. If your time at Hogwarts had been isolated due to your upbringing and necessary cunning from it, a sorting into Slytherin, Dumbledore in charge, favoring the Gryffindors in the House rivalry, few if any friends, blood politics mounting as the war did? 

“You could have been ripe pickings for Riddle. And if he had marked you as he usually did his minions with a modified slavery bond? You never could have taken the crown and if he had known your heritage, the reason that the Prince family took that name? He could have petitioned Magic and used his bond on you to take that heritage and doom the world.

“And if Dumbledore had known, he would have manipulated you and used you for his vision of ‘the greater good’, even after the adoption. So, magic led me to you. Our people need protection, we need Avalon. 

“The muggles grow more dangerous with every passing year, their technology in weaponry and their technology in communication. They’ve been in space, to the moon, they have artificial machines - satellites orbiting the planet, some have cameras. If the cameras become more sophisticated, will wards still work? From that far away without an active mind to fool? 

“Avalon is our saving grace, Your Majesty. My son. It isn’t what myth and legend would have us believe. I’ve been shown the way to get there and there is room enough for every magical being on the Earth that wishes to go. The logistics can wait but verifying your return, the Once and Future King was prophesied he would return at the time of our world’s greatest peril. They will follow you to safety.”

Severus looked around at the two conclaves, kneeling, eyes wide, tears on some cheeks and nodded. “Show us the way to Avalon, safety from the muggles, more than wards.”

***

An hour later, Hadrian led his son the king and the first new knights of the Round Table to Glastonbury Tor. They all stood in a group centered on Severus, and Hadrian told his son what to do.

“Take your sword and press the tip into the mound, then find your core and channel your magic down the sword. It was designed to do this, to act as a focus when needed. As you channel your magic, desire that we are taken to Avalon’s gateway.”

Filius looked around. “So this isn’t Avalon’s gateway up here? I thought perhaps Avalon was underground. It would hide it from space cameras.”

Hadrian shook his head. “No. I’ve been here twice by Magic’s will. The entrance to the gateway is here, under the mound, well under the ground that is the mound itself. If that makes sense? The gateway isn’t within the mound. If the mound were flat, the gateway is under the spot where the mound is.”

Severus nodded. The new king took a deep breath and removed Excalibur from his back where it had been sheathed. He placed the tip lightly in the ground and they all saw the purple light move down the blade as he called for it. There was a flash of darkness and a disorienting sensation and all fourteen were underground, the cavern lighting from nowhere as they arrived. 

Hadrian left the circle and they followed him to a side passage. It led to a larger cavern with a large stone archway set flush against a solid wall. Every time he saw it, Harry couldn’t help but think of the Veil of Death. It was very alike. Just without the eerie curtain.

“Lay your hand on the arch and channel your magic, Severus. It will open the gate and allow us access to our Home.”

Harry had been to the cavern twice since his arrival in the past, though never physically. Magic had pulled his astral form here and shown him what needed to be done. The first trip was the night after the adoption ritual. He had been shown visions of what the muggles would have reduced wizards to after his death in the future. It had been horrific. And then Magic took him to the gateway and had shown him visions of what lay beyond. 

The second time was the night after Tom and Albus had died. Magic had shown him exactly where the cavern was and how to access it. It had then granted him further visions of Avalon as a carrot to the dreams of muggle warfare that were his constant stick over the last decade.

Severus laid his hand on the side of the arch and purple light flowed into the stone, bathing it until it glowed brightly from all sides. Then the light reached out across the gap of the arch and a portal formed. Severus lifted his hand and stepped back.

“It won’t destabilize.” Hadrian waved a hand. “Not until you reverse the process.”

The men looked at the view that filled the arch and were awed, jaws dropping. Sirius stepped forward. “Allow me to go first, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t you trust the magic, Sirius?” Severus frowned.

“I trust Magic, but I wish to protect you. I - I am your right hand. Your knight. I need to test this before you follow, Sire.”

Severus drew in a deep breath. “Are all of you feeling - odd compulsions or draws on your magic?”

The men, including Hadrian, nodded. “Just as you are, my not so little king. Magic wishes to survive and grow and thrive, and it can no longer accomplish that here. It wishes to keep us safe and whole. But we don’t know enough, even  _ I  _ don’t have a close enough connection to Magic to understand easily. Perhaps there were once those who did. Perhaps Merlin, perhaps King Arthur, perhaps the knight of the Round Table, perhaps everyone or near enough, and it had been lost along with so much else over the centuries. Perhaps. Perhaps not. But Magic is prodding us along as much as we can understand.”

Severus nodded and inclined his head at Sirius. “We will follow upon your signal, Sirius.”

Sirius’ shoulders straightened and his chin rose as he strode forward, hesitated for a bare moment and crossed the invisible threshold. It was nerve wracking for Harry, to see the young version of the man who would be, once had been, his godfather, go once more through a magical stone archway. 

Harry fought off the memories as Sirius stopped and they saw him look around. He stepped forward and his eyes rose to the sky before he faced them and gestured with his hand, calling for their arrival.

Severus stood still, looking at the portal and the others lined up behind him. Severus looked over his shoulder and pulled his father to stand next to him. “You will come through with me, Dad. Equal. If not for you, none of this would have happened. You gave me and us this chance to live and thrive and you will be the second through the portal to Avalon, along with me.”

Hadrian nodded and placed his hand on his child’s shoulder, now higher than his own. “Then let us proceed to Avalon.”

Severus smiled and stepped forward, Hadrian a beat behind, and they crossed the portal, the new knights following. Once across, they all followed Sirius’ example and stood gazing at sky, a lovely blue with two shaded moons and a giant glowing gas giant planet hovering above snowcapped mountains over a large forest.

Avalon.


	2. Casting Page

**Author's Note:**

> There will not be a sequel. Don't ask.
> 
> The awesome, beautiful cover art is by helva2260, the rest is mine.


End file.
